Home
by lumos-aeternum
Summary: Following Voldemort's downfall attempting to kill Harry, the Hogwarts professors appeal to the Ministry of Magic to allow the young boy to live and grow up at Hogwarts, away from the world's dangers. He grows up unlike any other child in the Wizarding world, meeting years of students before he is allowed a wand. Now, he will meet his fellow classmates to finally learn magic.
1. Chapter 1: Just Another Day

Harry awoke, blinking at the sudden burst of sunlight that broke through the window. He grumbled to himself, muttering at the annoyance of having to move at all today. Not that anyone expected anything of him, not this morning. All preparations were ready, the guests would come along near evening, and then, well, his life wouldn't change that much, not really.

He had complained about the living arrangements. Having had this room for ten or so years, he had become rather attached to it. It wasn't fair to take it away. At least the food wouldn't change. No matter what, that remained delicious, whomever else might be sharing it.

Rolling out of bed, Harry slipped on a casual robe, slipped his glasses on, and headed down to breakfast. He wore slippers through the hall, not caring who saw him on a day like this. If he ran into anyone else downstairs, he would be surprised. Everyone had taken to eating alone as they prepared for the guests in the last week or so. His slippers were special, prepared with charms to keep them warm and toasty no matter how cold the floor.

His pocket felt weird, too heavy, but he had decided two days before that he would get used to the weight of the wand there, even if he was technically not allowed to use it yet. Heh. Like anyone could resist attempting something or other. Drawing his wand rapidly, he sent a tickling charm at a suit of armor. Its echoing laughter followed him the rest of the way down to the Entrance Hall.

Yawning, he took a look around. No one around, as expected. The hall always felt wider and more empty when no one was about. He had seen it crowded, stuffed with loads of students who dwarfed him in size. Their slow, sad march away at the holidays, their happy, excited new entrances when they returned, he had seen it all. He couldn't blame them, whenever he left Hogwarts, he felt homesick. He rarely left, of course, but when he did, it was difficult being away.

His stomach growled, so he scurried into the Great Hall, taking a seat at a random seat, as he always did when no one was about. They always used a single table when the students were away on holidays, so he would share with whatever Professors remained. Most took leave, visiting family or enjoying a long break. A few could always be found, researching this, preparing for lessons, and so on. Some never seemed to leave. Harry suspected Professor Trelawney hadn't left the grounds since before he was born. Professor Sprout's plants took a great deal of her time to care for, so her leaves were often brief.

The moment Harry sat down, a plate of his favorite breakfast appeared: kippers, poached egg, and a side of bacon, all on toast with a glass of pumpkin juice. How the house elves always knew he was coming had long intrigued him. He had caught one or two cleaning a corridor just last week, but they hardly had time for a catch-up just before school began. Everything had to be perfect for the students.

He ate slowly, chewing his food thoughtfully. He was one of those new students, today. Not like the others, perhaps. They would all come from their homes and families. He had heard some describe the heartfelt goodbyes they shared at Platform 9 3/4. It sounded wonderful having people care for you that much, but, for him, it was never to be. Hogwarts was his home and he had no family to send him off to school.

Harry couldn't remember it, but at the age of three, a student had told him about his parents. Apparently he had bawled his eyes out and the student had earned a severe talking to at the hands of Professor McGonagall. He smiled. Of all the professors, she had taken the most time to look out for him. At six, though, all of the professors had had a proper discussion with him about his parents. He didn't remember much from that meeting, but what stuck with him was the admiration and kindness they all had in their voices when they spoke of James and Lily Potter.

That isn't to say he was in the dark. He knew that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or Nameless as Harry thought of him, had killed his parents and tried to kill Harry. Somehow, he had lived. Then, the professors had taken it up with the Ministry and appealed to have Harry stay here, the safest place in the wizarding world. So, here he had remained. It was home, the only one he had ever known, anyway.

It was funny to think of himself as a new student, though. Harry had sat in on classes for years. Much of it went over his head, but some of it made sense. Magic was complex, but the professors had mastered it, and countless students since he had come here. He was sure he could do it, too. He was excited about finally getting his own wand, there were some things he wanted to try out. Tickling charms aside, his fingers itched to do some of the things he had seen students do over the years. Harry wanted to belong, fully, to this world his parents had left him.

His food half-done, Harry stood up and walked off. Before he had gone more than a few paces, he knew the food would be gone. The house-elves below would clean the plate and prepare for whatever they needed next. It reminded him of all the students who came and went. Every year saw a seventh of the students graduate and a new seventh appear. How could the professors take it? So much change, so many coming and going, many never again to cross the halls of Hogwarts. He shook his head. Some did visit, just not often. He saw a few old students in Diagon Alley when he was getting his wand and books.

"Harry! Is it Harry?" one woman Harry thought he recognized. "Are you about to start school? How time flies. When I last saw you, you were just a pup."

He hadn't had much to say, so he smiled, held up his books when she asked what he was getting, and struggled to remember what house she had been in. It was difficult to remember, after all, he had been very young when she left. He imagined many would know him by sight better than he would know them. The thought embarrassed him, even as he left the Great Hall, far away from the crowded street and staring faces. He wondered how many had actually know him from school and how many had just heard of him. The attention made him tired, mostly. Having done nothing to earn it; Harry felt they would do better to pay attention to greater people, like Dumbledore.

That phantom of a headmaster traveled pretty often, trusting his fellow professors to handle the teaching and stepping in only for important matters. It seemed that the Ministry needed his help or advice more frequently than Hogwarts did. However, even when Harry asked if he would leave them to stay with the Ministry, the old man had smiled, sadly, and said, "No, Harry. I think I can do better work here." Dumbledore didn't elaborate, but Harry understood from many that he was considered the greatest headmaster the school had ever had. Everyone knew he was famous for defeating Grindelwald and his work with dragon's blood. Come to think of it, aside from giving speeches at Hogwarts, Harry couldn't think of any time the headmaster had gone out of his way to draw attention to himself. This made Harry feel a special closeness, even though he hardly saw Dumbledore.

Tonight, though, the important thing would be the sorting. Harry thought about it, walking down to the lake. Deserted, he sat down at the shore, half-hoping the giant squid would come to say hello. The day slowly passed, and the sun inched across the sky as Harry enjoyed a quiet day alone, the last he would have for a while, he felt sure. He never could give an answer when someone asked him where he thought he'd be sorted. On a whim, he had taken up the sorting hat a number of times, but even it was conflicted, changing its answer on him from time to time. He wondered if the hat had actually seen changes in him or if it simply like to mess with young minds.

His parents had been Gryffindor, as had Dumbledore and McGonagall, two professors he admired greatly. Still, so many great witches and wizards he had met or heard of came from the other houses. It didn't seem like such a big deal to him, as it was. He had gotten along well with students of all houses, every year. Would that change, though, now that he was one of those students? Would his alignment to one house or another change what everyone thought of him? Why should it? It seemed rather a silly thing, but he worried about it. He knew, though, from talking to old students, it would make a choice, and that's where you would live for seven years.

He would know in the next few hours, but, he secretly dreaded having to be selected by any of them. After all, if he was in his own house, no one could complain about him getting his old room back. It was large, and all his. He had seen the dormitories, from the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor towers, to the dungeons of the Slytherins, and the cave-like home for the Hufflepuffs. They all had their own flair to them, but, they lacked the freedom and space he had known. He supposed every student lost some of that when they started living here. At home, they could probably go anywhere and do anything, but being a student at Hogwarts meant rules. Harry would have to live with that, too.

Before he knew it, the sun had dipped to the level of the ridge off to the west. Harry didn't want to leave his spot, but knew they would be looking for him otherwise. Standing, he walked his way back to the school. Students were already unloading from the carriages near the front doors. Slipping into a secret entrance, Harry raced up to his old room. His things were bundled up neatly, except for his first pair of Hogwarts school robes. These were laid out perfectly, ironed and crisp. Sighing, he slipped out of his casual things, put on the new robes, and put on his castle shoes. Time to meet the others. He breathed deep, ready for his first real adventure.


	2. Chapter 2: All Sorted

When Harry opened the door a few of the other first years jumped. He nearly laughed, but restrained himself. Every year, the first years were a bundle of nerves before the sorting.

The small room was packed with small clusters of students, his classmates. It was strange to think about them that way. Most were whispering to each other quietly; Harry supposed they were worrying about the sorting. Would these same groupings dislike each other when they were sorted into different houses? He stood by the door, looking over the crowd. He felt a certain calm in that he knew what was coming, better than any of them. Maybe he could calm a nerve or two before they went in.

"Oh, I wonder what the challenge will be?" One girl with very frizzy hair asked the group. "If we need to display what we know, I have only learned eight spells and you can't really count a few of those since they are really simple, can you? Oh, I wish I had read more before I left home!"

Harry walked over to her cluster which consisted of a nervous boy clutching a toad so hard Harry thought its eyes would budge, and a quiet, solemn faced boy who was looking more green as she spoke.

"Actually," Harry said, "you put on a hat, it determines which house suits you best, and it tells everyone."

"What?" the girl cried. "But that means I have no way to prove myself."

She looked more nervous than ever. He groaned, putting his hand into his hair. "You will be fine," he added. "You prove yourself when you start classes, your house is where you live. That's it."

A few students screamed. Harry turned around and saw all of the ghosts floating through the wall, they were arguing about Peeves, again.

"Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance —" the Fat Friar was saying.

"My dear Friar," Nearly Headless Nick replied, "haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost — I say, what are you all doing here?"

"Nick," Harry said, waving, "we're waiting to be sorted."

"Oh, of course, Harry!" Nick said, beaming down at him. A few other ghosts smiled at Harry. "We're all looking forward to it."

"Hope to see some of you in Hufflepuff," the Fat Friar said.

"And Gryffindor!" Nick responded, winking at Harry.

"Move along now, " McGonagall said from behind them. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start. Now, form a line and follow me."

Harry saw the ghosts float through the wall in the direction of the Great Hall as they were shunted off towards the door. He followed the others back into the Entrance Hall and to the massive doors to the Great Hall. While all the others glanced about in awe, trying to take it all in, he found himself observing them. They were the only change that this year would bring, aside from a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, but the change in that position was so ordinary as to not feel like a change.

McGonagall placed a stool in the front of the room, in a ready spot for all the students to get a glimpse of the proceeding. She placed the Sorting Hat on it, and Harry thought he could see a smirk on its face, despite the shadows across it. The little bugger liked this attention more than anyone. Harry had talked to him many times. Most of the year, he was rather lonely. He spent months, if Harry was correct, every year making up the song for the next year.

He began to sing, and Harry hardly paid attention. He had heard the hat rehearsing, and it was similar enough to previous years to provide nothing out of the usual. The rest of the students, well most, kept an eye on the hat while it sang. The professors all watched him with rapt attentions. They did take this all much more seriously than Harry, of course. He only cared about the sorting, and that was starting as soon as the hat was done.

Harry could hear one of the kids whispering in relief at not having to wrestle a troll. He nearly chuckled. The craziest stories always got out about this. He stayed in line, waiting with the others.

Professor McGonagall stepped up with a large scroll, saying, "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the tool to be sorted. Abbott, Hannah!"

The list of names ticked by, some to this house, some to that. Harry hardly paid any attention. His time was creeping up, and he felt a tension around it all. Would everything depend on it? He sighed. Well, what would come would come.

Before he was quite ready, he heard his name, in the same tone as the others, "Potter, Harry."

He approached the stool, lifting its smirking face even with his. Shaking his head, he turned about, sat on the stool, and lowered the hat over his head. It covered his eyes, effectively shutting off the outside world. He heard nothing, saw nothing, and was no where for the briefest of moments. Then, the hat's voice penetrated his mind.

"Ah, Harry," he began, "Harry, Harry. What's it to be this time? Ho. This might be the only time you've had me on where you were nervous. Good! That can tell me more of who you will be."

"How accurate is your forecast," Harry thought, pointedly, "when someone only puts the hat on for a moment?"

"You'd be surprised," the hat answered. Harry could picture its satisfied look. "A few turn out differently, of course, but there is no accounting for the affect environment has on the whole of it. Everyone seems to forget that. You have decades of life ahead, and this…this is but the beginning of the road."

"How much more could I have since the last time?" Harry thought. "You seemed pretty set, then."

"Well, well, look who's in a big old hurry, here," the hat murmured into his mind. "I know what I know of your mind. We have spoken enough, perhaps, for me to form my opinion. You, though, get a rare treat for knowing me so well."

"What's that?"

"I'll put it plainly," the hat said. "I change my mind on you often because you could do well wherever you go. You've been around the castle too long, perhaps. You play with students of all houses, interact with all of the professors, too. Your personality, then, has rounded out nicely. You don't focus too much on any one aspect of it, whatever the reason, though I think you are predisposed towards a couple particularly well."

"What are you getting at?" Harry asked.

"Where do you want to be?" the hat asked.

"You know my answer," Harry thought.

"Your wish cannot be," the hat said, chuckling into Harry's mind. The thought sound seemed to reverberate through Harry, unnerving him. "I am a sorting hat. I have to sort you as instructed. You have but the four options while you attend this castle for school."

"Ok, fine," Harry thought, disgruntled. "It couldn't hurt to ask."

"Of course, you didn't ask, but that is beside the point.," the hat said to him. "You get a choice few know they have. Where would you like to spend the next seven years? What do you want from Hogwarts now?"

"I…" Harry froze, his mind spinning through the hundreds of students, perhaps a thousand by now, that had come and gone while he watched from afar. What was it of them that he wished for the most? What was it he desired? "I… I want to learn."

Feeling the shift in Harry's thoughts, the hat laughed. "Ravenclaw, really? I know you would be compatible, but I wouldn't have guessed at it as a choice."

"And why not?" Harry thought.

"I suppose," the hat said, "no reason at all. Very well, are you sure?"

"I want to learn as much as I can. The Ravenclaws are known for their wisdom and intellect. I could learn so much from them."

"As you will," the hat said to him before proclaiming audibly, "RAVENCLAW!"

The sound seemed to break the tension in Harry's stomach. Cheers rang out from the Ravenclaw table as Harry took off the hat and gazed across at his new house-mates. So, this was where he was to live. He had had a say in it, though. Did he choose wrongly? Had the hat sensed something it hadn't wanted to say?

Putting down the hat, he marched over to the Ravenclaw table, sitting between a few of the older students he had known for a number of years. They patted him on the head and smiled at him. He felt a bit overwhelmed by it all. Back at the front, the hat was considering another student, but Harry had long forgotten the rest of the sorting. His bit was over.

The food was eaten in a blur, and Harry didn't really start to realize what had happened until they were approaching the tower of the Ravenclaw dormitories. He could hear the other new students whispering excitedly, and thought he should at least pay attention.

"How are we going to find our way to classes?" one boy asked.

"You will learn the way around," Prefect Jonathan Holarum answered. "Until then, just ask if you are unsure. Older students will always help."

"I can help too," Harry said, smiling for what felt like the first time all day.

"Harry knows the castle better than most professors, I reckon," Jonathan said, laughing.

"Well, probably not Professor Dumbledore," Harry replied, looking about at his fellow students. They seemed wide-eyed and uncertain what to make of anything.

"Ah, here we are," Jonathan said, pointing ahead to a tall, plain wooden door. It had no door knob nor any other visible way of opening it. An eagle-headed knocker alone stood out on its surface.

"How do we open it?" a girl with large, curly hair asked.

"We have to answer a riddle," the prefect said. He turned about to face them. This door was designed by Rowena Ravenclaw long ago. She prized the cleverness of her students, and sought to instill deeper wisdom. This door will be a burden at first, but, before long, you will come to see it as a teacher. If you cannot answer, you will have to wait for a student who can."

Harry thought about it. It was clever, the idea. You had to learn something to enter, or already show your knowledge. This was what he had come to Ravenclaw for, to learn. He just hoped he would do it proud. That nagging thought about what the hat had tried to say stuck with him. What had it meant?

"Let's knock and see if one of you can figure out the answer to its question," Jonathan said, knocking on the door sharply with the eagle knocker.

A musical voice spoke out of the eagle's mouth, asking, "If you have me, you can share me. If you share me, you do not have me."

"Anyone have an answer?" Jonathan asked. Several shook their heads.

Harry scrunched up his forehead. This wasn't really the sort of thing he was ready for. The riddle last time had been around a magical topic, and McGonagall had answered it without a thought. He wanted to get it. It would be a good start, but he couldn't think of anything that matched. If you share something, you should still have at least part of it, right?

"No one?" the prefect asked, laughing. "No worries. It's your first night. I believe the answer is, a secret."

"Correct," the eagle said, and the door swung inward. Several of the students laughed at the answer. It made sense, hearing it said, but how did he figure it out?

The same circular room Harry had seen once before greeted them. The stars still shown upon the domed ceiling, painted but looking as real as the night skye. Long windows circled the room, giving no clear sight this late at night, but the torches within lit up the furniture and bookshelves evenly, keeping a steady glow throughout the room.

"Welcome home," Jonathan said.


	3. Chapter 3: To Be a Ravenclaw

Harry slept fitfully his first night as a Ravenclaw. It wasn't from noise, despite Terry - one of his dorm mates - snoring incessantly. It wasn't due to stress - all that was past now. Harry had a house, he had chosen it, in fact, unlike many. His house would be his home, it would guide him into the years to come.

What kept Harry awake was being away from home for the first time in years. As funny as it sounds for someone sleeping in the same building he had called home since he learned to say the word, this room was not familiar to him. The bed was smaller, thinner, and smelled of mothballs and extensive sanitizing spells. Ravenclaw or not, it was a guy's dorm, and a thousand years of students coming and going would leave an impression on the place. The point was, this was unfamiliar. He wanted to wake up back where he always had.

In a dark hour sometime preceding dawn, he crept out of the dormitory, and down the spindly stairs to the common room. Even as tightly thin as this stair was, it felt light and airy here. The windows were tall and closely spaced. Starlight trickled in evenly across the path downwards, and he realized, to his amazement, that there were no torches lit, but he could see perfectly fine. The doorways to other Ravenclaw boys' dorms passed by like ghosts in the night. No sound left their rooms, and he was sure Terry wasn't the only snorer.

The silence as he entered the common room was complete. They were in one of the tallest towers in the castle, high above the humdrum life of the day. They floated above everything, and Harry could distinctly feel the distance and separation here, as one living up in the clouds when the earth and all its denizens stayed far below. Perhaps that was what Rowena Ravenclaw, founder of the house, had been looking for, a little separation. Harry's question, however, was the eternal why?

He took a seat on one of the puffs along the walls, sinking into the depths of its soft caressing folds, he leaned back to look up at the sky art. Had it changed slightly since before? He had a hard time feeling sure as there were thousands of stars marked upon it. Sighing, he wondered why he had bothered to come down here. Nothing would change just by leaving the dorm; ultimately, too, he'd have less rest if he neglected his bed. Deciding he had been ridiculous and should return and give sleep another shot, he looked down, ready to rise.

With a start, he noticed a young girl he recognized as a first year who had been sorted shortly after him. She was pencil thin, with shoulder length dirty-blonde hair. Her face had very soft features, the kind hardly noticeable in a crowd. She wore a long sleeping gown down to her ankles, pink and covered in little a white floral pattern. She had stopped suddenly at the foot of the stairs, staring and surprised.

"S-sorry," she said, attempting to retreat.

"Don't be," he said. "I wasn't doing anything. You were just sorted, too, right?"

"Y-yes," she said, sounding rather nervous. "I'm Lisa, Lisa Turpin."

"Nice to meet you, Lisa," he replied. "I'm Harry P-"

"Potter, yes," she said. "My older sister told me."

"Oh?" he asked, thinking back. He couldn't remember a face at all for a relative of Lisa.

"She said you arrived at Hogwarts her fourth year," Lisa explained. "So, you probably wouldn't remember her."

"Of course," he said, laughing. "I have a hard enough time remembering people I should remember."

Lisa giggled, a quiet but pleasant sound. "Sorry to add one more, then," she said.

"It helps to know a bit about the person," Harry said. "If your sister came here, I'm guessing your parents are wizards, right?"

"Yes," she said, "my mum works at St. Mungo's, a Healer in the Experimental accidents wing, and my dad works in the Magical Games and Sports Department at the Ministry."

"What does your sister do, out of Hogwarts?" he asked, smiling.

"Oh, uh, she's working in foreign relations," Lisa said. "Her fiancé is a Muggle banker, of all things."

Harry grinned. "I wonder what that's like…" he said, shaking his head, "living with Muggles, I mean."

She chuckled, too, smiling. "I went to school for Muggles before I came here. Mum says it is good to understand about the Muggles, too."

"How are they?" Harry asked. "I've never met one that I can remember."

"They're…" she stopped, struggling for words, "like us but no magic, I guess…"

He smiled, saying, "Much like everyone, then."

"So," she asked, slowly, "do…do you remember anything about your parents?"

"No," he said, face falling. "I was too little. Everyone says they were wonderful people, though."

"S-sorry," she said, sounding very much like she had when she had first walked up. "I d-didn't mean to m-m-make you s-sad."

"It's alright," he said. "The professors here have been like family to me, and the students, as well. It's like having a ton of siblings."

She looked down at her feet, awkward. "I suppose you knew you'd be a Ravenclaw," she said after a time. "You must know so much more than I do…"

"Actually," Harry said, "I didn't know which house I'd be in, not until I was up there."

"But —" she began, looking up, and then stopped.

"I tried on the hat a few times in the past couple years," Harry added. "You know what's funny?"

"What?" she asked, looking quizzical.

"It changed its answer each time," he said, looking at her with an odd smile. "This time, though, it asked me what I really wanted out of my time here. So, I chose Ravenclaw, to learn."

"You chose-?" Lisa asked. "But how can you choose where you'll be? Doesn't the hat decide for you? Isn't it supposed to know where you belong?"

"Mostly," Harry said, "I think that's true. Most first years wouldn't want to choose."

"But then," she asked, "what if you don't like being a Ravenclaw?"

Harry shrugged. "Anyone could dislike their house," he answered, "but if I do, I'm the only one to blame." He laughed.

"Does it make mistakes?" she asked.

"The hat?" Harry asked, watching her face grow pale.

"Maybe…maybe I should have been in a different house," she said. "I…I don't think I'm smart enough to be a Ravenclaw."

There was a long pause. Harry was looking at Lisa, trying to think of a good answer. She remained staring at her feet, looking miserable.

Harry walked a couple paces closer, saying, "I don't think it matters, what house you're in, I mean."

"What?" she asked, her voice sounding muffled, confused, and far away.

"I think what really matters is what you do while you're here," he said. Harry leaned down and tilted his head to look up in her down-turned face. "Being a Ravenclaw is no different from being a Gryffindor, Slytherin, or Hufflepuff, really. Tomorrow, we all start our first classes and meet our other fellow students. They'll all be doing the same. Everyone takes a while to settle in, you'll see. They put Ravenclaws together because we're clever, we look for knowledge and wisdom, for our own reasons. Otherwise, we're like everyone else."

"What about Slytherins?" she said, softly. "Aren't they supposed to make bad wizards?"

"There are bad apples all around," Harry said, laughing. "I knew some trouble making Hufflepuffs from two years back. They caused more trouble than all the Slytherins combined for a bit there. They say old Nameless was from Slytherin, but that doesn't mean all of them are like him."

"Nameless?" she asked.

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Harry clarified. "I just think that takes too long to say."

She looked at him in surprise. "Aren't you scared…of…of him?"

Harry shrugged. "He's gone."

She nodded. "I'm going to try to sleep, Harry," she said after a moment.

"Me too," he answered. "I guess we have a long day tomorrow. Nice talking to you, though."

"You, too," she said. After turning and walking a few steps, she turned and said, "Thanks," before walking away.

Harry waited a moment before heading off to his room, too. It may not have been his usual bed, his space was not his alone, and it may have a funny sort of smell, but it was his home, now. If the others could travel so far away from home, he supposed he could adjust, too. It would be home enough, soon, home among the Ravenclaws.


	4. Chapter 4: Tryout

Harry started, jerking out of a dream filled with sinister laughter and a green flash of light. Startled, a pair of birds took off from their perch outside the nearest window. The brief fluttering sound faded into the soft sounds of his door mates' breathing.

Shaking his head, Harry looked out into the early morning sky, losing the birds in flight almost as soon as he looked. Pale light hung like a fine mist over the peaks of the mountains he could see, pink surrounded by the grey shadows unrevealed. Peace and calm prevailed and his heart and breath slowed to match.

He had had the dream many times over the years, mostly in the autumn. Harry suspected it had something to do with his parents' deaths, but his mind may have simply made it up when he learned the truth. Repeated dreams would only reinforce the idea of it and the tension and fear he experienced during them.

It saddened him to think of it. He had known his parents for a short time, and he could no longer remember anything about them. This potentially false dream memory was the closest he had. Harry shook his head. Better not to dwell on it, especially not today.

It was the first Saturday of the term. Whereas most of the school was looking for a bit of a lie in, he had business of a serious nature to attend to. Rising, he changed into his most comfortable and fitting clothes, and slipped on a loose jacket for the walk down. Getting a chill before the term really got going was not going to help his chances, long as they already were.

Making his way down through the castle was quick and quiet. No one passed through this early, even the most studious looking for the library. He was surprised to make it first to the pitch, however; not disappointed, just surprised. People took the tryouts very seriously.

Pulling out his favorite school broom (slightly less rickety compared to the rest), he kicked off and soared around the pitch, feeling the wind flutter his jacket collar. He laughed, joyfully pulling loops and swooping between the hoops and down rows of empty seats for the pure fun of it. His favorite moment, though, was shooting down at high speed and pulling up at the last second.

Harry had just pulled up to see the sun peek over the nearest hill when he saw people finally arriving on the pitch. Landing gracefully, he ran up to his house members, feeling more ready than he ever had been. This would be the moment of truth.

Amanda Brawn, the captain approached him, leaving the crowd. She had the torn look of someone unhappy and nervous about something.

"I'm ready," he said as she approached.

Her frown deepened. "Harry," she said, "you know first years aren't allowed brooms."

Harry stopped. "I know," he said, "but even if they won't make an exception, I can use this." He raise the broom in his hand.

The crowd that was gathering hear him and a few laughed. Most just shook their heads and looked amused. Amanda looked upset for him.

"Harry," she said, pausing for the right words. Her brow was furrowed, looking out of place on a kind face. "I... We want to win the Cup this year. Don't you think...with a broom like that?... I mean, wouldn't someone with a more competitive broom do better?"

"The Weasley twins use older brooms but they still made a great showing last year," he said, in protest.

"Yes," she said, slowly, "but they are beaters. I thought you were trying for Seeker? The seeker has to be fast and agile."

"Let the tryouts show whom is best," said Cynthia, the previous year's best Chaser. "We've all seen Harry fly, Amanda, he has talent, broom or no broom."

"Yes, but..." Amanda said.

"He's a first year, now," Cynthia said, "let him take his chances. If someone beats him with their own broom, then they get the position. He didn't ask for preferential treatment, but don't keep him from trying."

"Fine," Amanda said, pinching her eyebrows together, "you have to prove yourself with a school broom, then. Are you alright with that, Harry?"

He smiled. "Of course!"

She broke the group up into the positions available. Amanda was a Beater, so only one spot was open for that position. Three were vying for that. A round dozen had shown up for Chaser, including two of the Chasers from the previous year. The previous Keeper, Heth Barns, was the only one looking for that position, so he was in already. The first two rounds quickly finished and the Chasers fell out as: Arnold Addelford (fourth year and new), Cynthia Smeltin (seventh year and star Chaser), and Gordon Heinman (fifth year and old hat).

With Amanda, Sefus Reginald III was the new Beater. That just left the new Seeker. Harry felt his nerves rising as he watched. Three others, fourth years all, had chosen to go for this position, and all had far nicer brooms than his ratty school broom. It didn't help hat they towered over him. By the time Seekers were called, his stomach was clenched tight and he wanted to sit down.

"Now," Amanda said, her voice hoarse and tired from yelling at flying players, "for you four, we need to test your speed, reaction time, and dexterity. If each of you had to fight over a Snitch it could become messy, and doing so one at a time is neither fair nor timely.

"Therefore, we will have a test I devised, and whomever does the best will have the position. Now, as I don't want anyone learning from the people before them, please wait in the locker room. Heth will watch for fairness. The rest of the team will judge the performances."

Each was called up one at a time for the task. Harry was first. He wondered if she was looking for a reason to cut him out early, and why...

Amanda grabbed a large basket from the ground, and flew to the middle of stadium, 50 meters above the ground. He swept up into the air, and the knot in his stomach lifted with him and he felt clear and ready again. He could do this, he knew it.

"Harry," Amanda said as he came up level with her, "I'm going to throw these balls in random directions at different time intervals. I want you to catch as many as possible and toss them into the central ring of the pitch. I know throwing isn't part of the position but handling depth perceptions while moving is.

"Don't expect to catch them all. After all, as a Seeker, you won't necessarily get one every first attempt. I want to see you make the most of the situation. And," she added with a smile, "no magic allowed. Do you understand?"

He nodded, tightening his grip on the broom.

"Good," she said, and proceeded to throw the balls.

He zipped after the first, catching and tossing it quickly before flying after the second. It quickly became too difficult, and he nearly dropped several in a row before he could figure it out. He couldn't get them all, no one could. Harry started choosing paths to go that threw him in the path of most balls. He dropped plenty, but he chose to. There were no more aborted pursuits, just a smooth circling. The wind whipped about him as he flew, but he hardly noticed it. His focus was completely on the balls.

When Amanda ran out of balls, she waved him over. "Go wait in the stands, Harry. We'll see how your competitors do."

He flew down to the pitch edge, noting nervously how many balls lay outside of the ring. Harry hoped it would be enough. Choosing a seat at random, he sat and waited while the team collected all of the balls from the ground, refilling the basket. All he could do now was wait and watch.

The first competitor did well, at first. She fell apart a bit after the throws became more erratic, but overall caught a good deal of the balls. The second, a tall boy, swooped in an out like a mad man, and was exhausted after a couple minutes. He missed the last quarter entirely, letting many slip through his fingers as he tried to go too many directions at once.

The last was the best Harry saw. He seemed to grasp the principle pretty quickly, but dropped a good deal more than he clearly liked. He looked angry as he landed and threw his broom down in anger. None of the team showed any signs but calmly collected the balls again.

They gathered and discussed for a few minutes, occasionally pointing vaguely in the air. Harry watched nervously, worried about how they would see him against that last contestant. The others were off to the side somewhere, but Harry's eyes were only for the team now.

After a spell, Amanda waved them all to join the team in the center of the field. Harry strode across the way, his legs shaking a bit under him. He felt, rather than saw, the other challengers coming along side. It felt funny going up against them today. Any other day, he would greet them with a smile, but here he could barely look at them. It occurred to him that he had a hard time picturing the three, in fact. At that thought, he glanced over, seeing the nerves on their faces. Clearly, he wasn't the only one affected.

As he walked, then, he watched the faces of those, like him, who hoped to make the team. 'How sad,' he thought, 'that only one could make the team.' How heavy must be the burden of he or she who does to properly represent the others. Could he honestly do it?

Amanda had no smile on her face as they approached. She was serious, and some of the team reflected that. The new member less so, but Harry expected they were too relieved at being counted to care too much.

The captain said, "This has not been an easy choice. The team has weighed everything from the test. As captain, it is my call, so if you are unhappy with the results, I invite you to speak with me."

She sighed. "I have decided, that Harry is our new Seeker."

The Ravenclaws beside him mumbled their congratulations, but Harry hardly heard them. His mind was a buzz, filled with the shock that he had actually done it.

"You picked me?" he still asked, incredulous.

"I thought you were more confident," Amanda said, laughing. "Yes," she added. "You were the best today."

"The test was harder than I expected," he said, still uncertain that this could be true.

"With four challengers," she answered, " I needed to be sure. This is my decision. Will you join my team?"

"Of course," he heard himself saying. He, like his father, would play Quidditch at Hogwarts.


	5. Chapter 5: Chance Meetings

Word spread quickly that the Seeker for Ravenclaw was a first year. Harry found people staring at him in the hallways, something unusual to him as he had been well known in and around Hogwarts for years. They talked, too, but he could never make out what people thought about it. Any conversation he thought was about him ended immediately when he came too near.

The Ravenclaws were mostly happy about it. A few of the older students and the competitors grumbled a bit around the common room, but they were the minority. His fellow first years were excited for him.

"Amazing!" Michael said, "I haven't heard about any first years making the team!"

Anthony nodded, taking a cushion next to them in the common room. Even though it was a pleasant day out, the day after the tryouts found three of the Ravenclaw first years spending the afternoon catching up on homework. The first week or so had been exhausting and none of them were ready for classes the next few days.

He added, "Not in decades, at least. My old man said he knew a second year on Slytherin when he was in his seventh year. Sounded a bit jealous, if you ask me."

"That's because your dad can't fly in a straight line to save his life," Harry said. "Didn't he run into that flock of geese last year?"

"How did you-?" Anthony began, growing red.

"I still owl with Bradley Stiffen," Harry said, blushing and scratching his head. "He helped pull him out of that chimney."

"Who?" Michael asked, ignoring Anthony who had groaned.

"Oh, he graduated Hogwarts two years back," Harry said. "I think he just happened to be there."

"Harry," Anthony said, still red, "you know too many people, mate."

Harry laughed. The others joined in, until a few of the older students shot them glares across the room.

"Perhaps I do," he answered.

"Powerful," Michael said with a hint of admiration in the voice.

"What is?" Harry asked, incredulous.

"Knowledge is power," Michael said, mock serious. "You must be a king to know so many people."

Harry shook his head. "No, just a first year behind on his homework. Are we gonna work on the Snape essay or what?"

Leaving his friends an hour later, Harry had to hurry down to the pitch for their first official practice as a team. Amanda had said she wanted to get the year started off right, so they hadn't waited even a full day from the tryouts to their first official practice. If Harry had been any less keen to make a good showing in his first official Quidditch match, he would have been irritated by it. Regardless, he felt lucky to have made it on at all.

He was passing a statue of the sharply humped witch when he turned into a hall with three boys. They blocked the way, mostly with the two larger boys' girth. Without a glance, Harry could tell they were Slytherins. The green neck of the center boy's jumper was a dead give-away, anyway. Forced to stop to avoid a collision, Harry took in more of the scene.

The central boy was blonde, around his height, and wore a smirk as comfortably as one wears an old shirt. The two others were more nondescript, large and hulking. Harry felt surprised that he had never noticed them around before, but deduced they must be first years, as well. He really had not paid enough attention the night of the sorting.

"I'm sorry," he said, after a second, "I'm afraid I need to be somewhere. Can I pass through?"

"No," the boy said, his voice a casual drawl. "I'm afraid not."

"What?" Harry asked, irritated by the rudeness. "Why not? I'm on my way down to the-"

"Won't even introduce himself to me," the boy said, apparently at his two silent boulders, for he looked at one and then the other. "Is that how rude all the Ravenclaws are?"

"I'm not trying to be rude," Harry said. "I just have somewhere I need to be. I'll be late at this rate."

"Then stay a moment," the boy said, the laugh in his eyes looked disjointed over the perpetual smirk, "as you are already late."

"Fine," Harry said, hoping to end this quickly. "I'm Harry Potter."

"We know," the boy said, "and I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. This is Crabbe and Goyle." He waved vaguely at the other two as he said it.

Harry couldn't be sure which was which. A thought occurred that maybe Draco wasn't sure, either. He couldn't hide the near laugh.

"What's funny?" Draco asked.

"Nothing," Harry said, flatly. "It's nice to meet you. May I be on my way now? I'm sure we will meet again."

"You don't know me?" Draco asked, looking surprised. "People say you know everyone."

"Do they now?" Harry shot back, annoyed. "I know you now, is that enough?"

"Don't you know who my father is?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Malfoy," Harry said, crinkling his forehead. "Oh, Lucius Malfoy, one of the school governors, isn't he?"

"Ah, you do know him," Draco asked, looking somewhere between delighted and smirk-full again.

"I haven't met him, but I have seen him," Harry said. "Can I go? I'm already late."

"You don't think it would be good to know the son of one of the governors?" Draco asked, no longer anything but a smirk on his face. "I daresay I might, in your case. He often has the ear of the Minister for Magic, of course."

"Next time he's in for a visit, I'll say hello," Harry snapped. Too irritated by the boy, he spun around and slipped into a secret stair behind a hanging curtain, going the longer way around. He was tired of dealing with the boy, and late for Quidditch! Amanda would be furious. He thought he heard the boy shout something from behind him, but he couldn't make it out as he left.

Cutting around another corner, he was nearly to the main staircase when he heard something. Stopping, he turned and looked at a door to his left. It sounded like an enormous dog was barking in there. Curious, he slipped over to the frame, and decided to take a peak. The door didn't open at his touch, so he pulled out his wand. "Alohomora" he whispered, and the door opened. Inside, a very large, very angry, three headed dog towered over him.

It barked and snapped at him, but outside the door, he couldn't be reached. He gave a cry and jumped back, anyway, holding his hand to his chest. Who would keep something like that in a school corridor? Then, he realised. "The third floor corridor, of course! Dumbledore warned us about this," he said, taking time to breathe.

It was good enough reason to keep the door locked, leastways. Looking around, he was glad to see no one was around or saw him. With a nervous laugh, he closed the door lightly in the dog's face, and cast "Colloportus" on the door before he left. He didn't want to get into trouble in his first week. As he finished, he realised how easily he had just done two spells that he had only ever read about or witnessed being used. He was shocked, but happy it had worked so well.

Then, he ran, for he was really late by now. He flew down the stair and out to the pitch, his breath completely out of him before he got there. As he thought, Amanda was there with the rest of the team, watching him arrive. Gasping he apologised and Amanda spent the next few minutes lecturing him as he got ready. Not the best way to start his first Quidditch practice.

The rest of the training that day; however, went well. They released the snitch, and he wove in and out of the team as they drilled, searching for it. He caught and released the snitch six times during the two hour practice, and managed to avoid everyone, despite some wild bludger hits and some plays that came uncomfortably close to hitting him.

Amanda seemed happier. "This team is really coming together," she said, proudly. "If we can manage to keep the other team for scoring much, we'll have this first one in the bag."

"Those Hufflepuffs will never see us coming!" Cynthia cried, savagely.

Harry glanced sidelong at Heth, questioning.

"We lost to them last year because Cynthia missed one pass," Heth answered, loudly. "I think she wants to get back at them."

Cynthia turned on Heth. "Yeah, we're gonna crush 'em! Got a problem with that?"

"Oh, right," Harry said, thinking back. "I remember that game. You scored the most points of any player, though, didn't you?"

She stopped, whatever was about to yell fell out of her head. "I…er…maybe?"

"So, how can you blame yourself?" he asked, pointed.

"I'm … not," she said, "I … er … we're going to crush them! That's all!"

Shaking his head, Harry smiled. "Yeah, we will for sure," he said.

They entered the castle, leaving the late afternoon sun behind. Harry followed the team into the Great Hall where the early diners were beginning to eat. On weekends, people's hours were more flexible, as Harry had seen. People floated in and out over the next few hours, though he didn't plan to stay long. He still had the last bit of Snape's essay and one for McGonagall waiting for him.

The Ravenclaw table had a few seventh years, who greeted the team with enthusiasm. No one was at the Hufflepuff table yet, the Slytherins had a handful, but what caught his eye was the single, bushy haired girl sitting at one end of the Gryffindor table. She looked familiar, for some reason, but he couldn't remember when he had run into her before.

When dinner appeared on his plate, he forgot about the girl, and ate his way to contentment. His arms and legs were sore from the hard flying he'd done two days in a row. Harry's back was stiff and throbbing with an occasional ache from a hard spin he'd had to make while flying. But, his stomach was full, and sitting felt wonderful. The rest of the team sat beside him, chatting with the seventh years about class schedules and such things. He felt too tired to talk, resting before he would have to return to his studies. Looking back, he felt the weekend had been rather more busy and tiring that he might have liked. Still, he was enjoying it. He was on a Quidditch team at Hogwarts. That was worth quite a lot.

After his stomach had filled and he could find no excuse not to finish his essays, Harry rose, waving to the team members who noticed him get up. Leaving, he took his time, walking slowly up the stairs towards the tower. At first, he passed many people. Both the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws seemed to have decided, in unison, to descend to dinner in a large group. Smiling and waving, he made his way through the crowd to return to the common room.

When he was a floor away, though, he heard something that made him stop. A voice, threatening, angry, and he was sure he recognized it. Pausing on the landing, he considered whether he would be better going on. After all, this had nothing to do with him, and it might just be nothing. Something inside him went cold at the thought. That wasn't right.

He left the stairs and headed towards the sound, his hand finding his wand in his pocket, just in case. Around the corner was a short corridor into a broader room. This was the level entry, something only a few floors actually had From memory, he was sure Flitwick's office was off to the left. The voice grew louder as he walked, and Harry recognised it.

"If you knew what was good for you," Draco said, "You'd shut that know-it-all mouth."

"But," a girl's voice said, "I wasn't bothering you; just returning to my common room."

"Sure," he said, amused. Harry could just picture the smirk. "You're in our way. Someone ought to teach you a lesson."

Harry knew that meant the trio was standing over there with the girl, and even with him there they would be outnumbered, but he couldn't help himself.

"Ah, you again," he said, pleasantly, slipping around the corner as casually as he could muster. "Bothering other first years?"

"This has nothing to do with you, Potter," Draco said, sneering at him. "Get lost before I-"

"Before you what?" he asked, sounding braver than he felt. He could see the whole scene now, the three encircling the same Gryffindor girl from the Great Hall. She was frozen in shock, and he could see she was afraid. For some reason, that made him feel a little more brave.

"We let you off lightly last time," Draco said. "Crabbe, Goyle, let's teach him some respect."

The two began to close on him, the girl was still frozen beside Draco, not taking the opportunity to run. Harry would have been annoyed at her for it, but he had other things on his mind. His wand hand left his robes with the wand, and he pointed it at them, though he had no idea what spell he ought to use on the two behemoths. They paused a moment, showing a flash of fear, but he didn't act. They glanced at each other, and laughed.

Draco said, "He doesn't know any spells, you numbskulls. Grab him."

"Is this to be the end of the Boy Who Lived?" came two voices in unison.

"Squashed into jelly-" one began.

"For standing up to the fearsome trolls of Slytherin?" the other ended.

Everyone turned and looked. Two older boys with fiery red hair had just entered from the corridor towards Flitwick's office. Harry recognized them as the Weasley twins, third year Beaters from Gryffindor. Their pranks and general rule-breaking were legendary even in Ravenclaw (though Harry had known them in a way since they arrived). Whatever their reputation, Harry was glad to see them. Extra witnesses would be more than enough to scare off the trio without any magic or … squashing.

Time seemed to freeze for a second. Everyone stared at the surprising new entrants.

"They must be so stunned at our brilliance, George," Fred said.

"We are quite amazing, Fred," George agreed.

"We should get some buckets, though," Fred added.

George smiled. "They're sure to be drooling any moment now with mouths that wide."

Harry broke out of the surprise first. "I'm glad you're here," he said. "These three…"

"Are just leaving," Draco said. He cocked his head away and Crabbe and Goyle followed him back to the stairwell and down.

"Well, wasn't that a pleasant little chat?" Fred said, watching the three leave.

"As usual, the Slytherin manners leave something to be wanting," George said.

"Are you two alright?" Fred asked, his face looking more serious for once.

"I'm fine," Harry said. "I'm not sure about…"

They looked at the girl, who was breathing more steadily, and picked up her fallen books quickly.

"I'm fine," she said. "Big bullies. Cornering people in the hallways."

"You sure you're alright, Hermione?" George asked, looking concerned.

"I'm alright," she said. "If Harry hadn't come by…"

"You mean if we hadn't," Fred said, smugly. His eye twinkled with amusement. "Want us to slip something fun into his pumpkin juice?" he asked.

"Or his trunk?" George asked. "Nothing says leave Gryffindor first years alone like a live ferret in their trunk." He waggled his eyebrows.

Harry and Hermione laughed. Fred and George joined in, and Harry could feel the tension of the moment before slip away.

"No, no," she answered when she could stop laughing. "I'm fine, honest. I just need to get back and study."

"Alright," Fred said, "but…"

"We'll escort m'lady back to the common room, if that's alright with you?" George finished.

"Sure," she said, smiling. "And, thanks, Harry," she added, looking over at him.

"No problem," he answered. "I heard them bothering someone. What else was I to do?"

"I may need to talk to the Sorting Hat later," Fred said.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"I think it put you in the wrong house, Harry m'lad."


	6. Chapter 6: Alone No More

Herbology had become one of Harry's least favorite subjects. It wasn't the subject matter, for the magical plants played a major role in magical Healing and other Potions components. It wasn't that the plants moved and often attempted to attack unwary students; he usually found that a bit amusing, at most. Having lived around the castle his whole life, Harry was acquainted with the odd plants and what to do to avoid getting a tangle-root wrapped around one's torso or receive a bite from the many plants that nipped at your heels. No, he liked Herbology least because he had to endure the presence of Draco and his companions.

For most of his other classes, the Ravenclaws had the room to themselves, a positive state if there ever was one. Potions they shared with the Hufflepuffs, an amiable crowd, and he had met a few nice fellow students from that house. Here, though, they shared with the Slytherins.

"Oi, Potter," he heard Draco call as they entered the class, "still riding one of those ratty school brooms in Quidditch practice? They haven't bucked you off yet?"

Harry walked past him to his plant trough without looking at him. Some words floated over to him from Draco's side of the greenhouse, "poor", "school", "charity case", "my father." Harry flicked a glare over at the blonde-haired boy, but this only elicited laughter from Draco and his friends. Harry grew red and faced his desk, irritated.

"Just ignore them," said Terry from his left. "He's been having a go at anyone who'll listen. What a little git."

"Who are you calling a git?" Draco asked, suddenly closer than either of them had anticipated.

"Just people who deserve it," Terry said, offhand, "as a general rule."

"Not so brave as to say it to my face, are you?" Draco asked, his face a sneer.

"And you'll only confront first years alone in hallways if you have your little guards with you," Harry spat. He glared openly up at Draco.

"Stay out of this, Potter," Draco growled.

He opened his mouth to add something, but was cut off by the greenhouse door opening. Professor Sprout bustled in, checking a few plants by the door as she went, saying, "Everyone to your troughs! Today is going to be a difficult one for many of you."

Draco scrunched his nose as he left, saying, "There's enough dung in this greenhouse without sitting near you lot." He moved back to his side of the room, positioning himself between his two cronies. Harry didn't spare him another glance as he pulled on his dragon-hide gloves. At least he could learn something from this class.

It was the fourth week of school, already, and Harry's anger with Draco was growing. He had thought about telling a professor, but what was there to say? He was mean to students, he intimidated them? Harry had never actually seen Draco do anything but talk. It sounded like he was going to have Crabbe and Goyle hurt Harry the night the twins interfered, but they had been interrupted. Terry was right; he was a git, but had he actually broken any school rules? Common decency didn't seem to have made the list.

He bumped into someone thinking, and books, quills, and rolls of parchment went tumbling. "I'm sorry!" he cried, helpless to stop the articles from falling. At the same time, a head of bushy hair cried out, "Sorry," before it ducked down to collect what was dropped.

"Hermione?" he asked as he reached down for the things nearest him. She looked up, brushing the hair out of her eyes. "Oh," she said, squinting a moment, "Harry Potter, of course. Sorry to run into you."

"I'm sorry," he said, picking up an armful of parchment that had rolled past him. "I was lost in thought."

"It's okay," she said, blushing. She ducked her head to gather the last of the books. "I was too," she added.

"Which of these are yours?" he asked, holding far too many parchments for one person.

She picked out a good number of them, leaving him with his essays. "Looks like you wrote more for your Potions essay," she commented.

"Oh, yeah," Harry said, stuffing the extra-thick parchment back into his bag. "I did some studying last summer on the uses of unicorn horn, and I had a theory … well, it's not important."

"You're so lucky," she said, looking down. All of her books were stuffed into an overfull bag hanging from her shoulder. "Getting to stay and study at Hogwarts as much as you like. You must be so far ahead of the rest of us …" She put a hand over her mouth, looking horrified. "I'm so sorry!" She ran off, her bag thumping hard against her side as she went.

Harry felt awkward. It was the second reference he had had in the same day to his staying at Hogwarts. Draco had seen him as a poor, charity case that was a burden on the school, and Hermione had envied his easy access to all of the school's magical knowledge. He'd have given it all up in an instant if he could, if he had the chance of having a normal childhood. His heart felt heavy, and he diverted from his trek back to the Ravenclaw common room. When he needed time away, Harry always felt his feet take him up to the Astronomy Tower. Far above the rest of the castle, it was alone, quiet, isolated. He could go there to think.

The tower was empty when he arrived, as he had hoped. Harry could hear the wind whistle through the gaps in the doorway leading to the roof. Someone hadn't closed it fully, but Harry didn't mind. The sound was eerie and soothing at once. He climbed up to the door, pulled on the iron handle, and stepped out onto the chilly rampart. Walking around the edge to the western-most side, he looked out onto the sunset. Pale pinks hung lightly over the world below, with the lightest touch of red at the horizon. Clouds rolling in from the east were racing along, trying to catch the dying embers of a long day.

Harry leaned on the railing, ignoring the castle about him, and looking down on the grounds far below. From this height, he couldn't see much in detail, the path was a thin line leaving from this side of the castle and curling south towards the lake. The grounds there were empty, and Harry was sure would remain so for the next day or so with the storm rolling in. This view wasn't as impressive as the dawn view to the east, with the forest lit from behind, but Harry didn't care. It was calming and he had time to himself.

Really, it wasn't something that bothered him that much, most of the time. He hadn't known his parents, and he never would. It didn't help him to feel hurt or different from the others, and, besides, they probably had their own troubles. No parents had to be better than cruel ones, didn't it? And, Hermione was right, in that sense, too. If he had to grow up somewhere without a family, Hogwarts wasn't a bad choice. The professors had always been kind to him, and he had learned so much just from being around the place.

Feeling a bit better, Harry rose from his leaning, watching the last embers of the sun disappear as the clouds enveloped the sky above. It would rain very soon, he felt very sure. As he started to walk back to the door, the wind quieted suddenly. From around the other side of the door, he heard what sounded like a light sobbing sound. Curious, but nervous that he would be an unwelcome sight to someone trying to be alone, he inched forward, passing the door.

She saw him before he saw her. "H-harry?" Hermione asked.

He stepped out from the edge of the wall, seeing her sitting on a stone block along the edge of the wall, her eyes filled with tears while looking up at him. Her bag was slumped beside her, tossed unceremoniously against the outer wall.

"S-sorry," he said. "I was just - the sunset - and I'm sorry I interrupted."

Hermione shook her head. "Don't worry about me," she muttered, waving him off.

"Are you okay?" he asked, softly.

"Do I look okay?" she asked, a bite in her voice he hadn't heard before. Her eyes had a glare to them, but they softened and she burst into more tears.

He approached, slowly. "Is…is it Draco?" he asked. "Did he do anything?"

She shook her head and continued to cry, hiding her face under her bushy hair and hands.

"I-" Harry said, thinking. "I'm not mad about what you said before. I-"

"It's not that," she said, looking up, stricken. "Well," she added, looking back down again, "maybe it is, in a way."

"I don't understand," he said, sitting on the ground next to her. "I know you didn't mean it to sound that way…like I was lucky not to-"

"I always say stupid things!" she exclaimed, grabbing her own hair. "And not just to you, but everyone!"

"You didn't say anything stupid," Harry said. He felt a drop of rain strike his head, but he ignored it. "You have a point. I do know more than most who start here, but I do have loads yet to learn. And…besides, the theory will only get you so far. I still have to use magic or make the potions. That's just as new to me as all of you."

"Harry," Hermione said, "It's not really about that."

"What is wrong?" Harry asked.

She stood up, and walked down the railing. Leaning on the edge, she looked into the misting darkness, saying, "Harry, it's so easy for you, you know? I don't mean the classes, but you know…you've known so many people here for years. I'm new. I'm from another school, a Muggle school, at that, and even there, I was just that weird girl. I thought… maybe if everyone else was different - magical, you know - that maybe they'd understand and we'd get along better. But, we just don't. I hate it here, not what we learn, but no one likes me."

Hermione sobbed again. "I know I shouldn't dump this all on you now," she said, wiping her eyes, "I just…I hoped everything would be different here, and it isn't. I'm still so alone."

Harry thought about how he had felt earlier, alone and different. Here was someone different for their own reasons. There was nothing really wrong with either of them, they just had to find their own places. How alone did they really need to be? This school was full of people, so much potential for friends, but so few people would take the chance for different people. He had friends, but he had known all of the older students for years.

"But you're not alone, Hermione," Harry said.

She looked up, tear streaks lining her face. He smiled at her, his brow furrowed but kind. She sniffed, wiping her face again. "You're popular, Harry," she said, chuckling softly. "Everyone likes you. You don't need to be friends with me."

Harry shook his head, saying, "I know most of the school. That doesn't make them close."

The rain that had been dripping a moment before accelerated. Harry felt it pelt down across his head and heard it striking the stone around them. They remained still and quiet for a moment, both looking up at the dark, stormy sky.

"We should probably go inside," Harry said after a moment. "It's raining."

Hermione nodded. "I need to get back to the common room," she said. "Thanks for listening, Harry."

With a sudden smile, she headed for the door, and was gone before Harry was able to move. Sighing, he headed down a moment later. He had tried. Maybe she just needed time. For now, he needed to go to his common room, too. There was a pile of homework to be done. Harry wasn't sure if he felt any better than he did when he went up to the Astronomy Tower. Still, if he helped Hermione with her day, even a little bit, it was worth it.

Continuing down the stairs, Harry thought about the day. It had been a strange one, but ultimately, positive. Lost in thought, he nearly ran into Hermione at the base of the stairs. She was leaning against the wall, glancing around the corner.

"Herm-" he began to say, but she shushed him, pointing around the corner with her finger.

"I don't know how to get past it," a voice said, distorted by an echo and the sudden thundering rain that seemed to come from everywhere around them.

"You will find a way," a new voice rasped. "It will be done as I command."

"B-but, master," the first voice trailed off, sounding despondent.

"Only the stone can restore me as I was," the second said, angry. "Get me the stone."

"We thought it was good fortune that it came to us here," the first said, whimpering, "but it is better protected than at Gringotts."

"That is no excuse," the raspy voice said. "Every trap can be broken, every trick can be foiled. You will find a way in."

"Yes…master," said the first. Footsteps tapped their way down the stairs of the tower.

Harry and Hermione waited. A door closed in the distance and there was silence. Still, neither moved. Was the other person still there? What had they been talking about? What was this stone and why did they need it? The stillness and silence spread, enveloping them and bringing comfort. It had felt terrifying to hear the two just around the corner, plotting and planning something. This wasn't your usual conversation at Hogwarts. People spoke of classes and magic, sometimes what was going on in the Ministry or at home.

After a few minutes passed, Hermione inched around the corner, and, seeing no one, sighed. "That was close," she said. "I almost walked right into that."

"Who was that?" Harry asked, but he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

"I don't know," she said. "I couldn't understand the voice with the echoes."

"Me neither," he said, walking around the landing. There was no sign of anything from the people who had been there. "They are after something hidden here, a stone, I think he said."

"Yes, but why?" Hermione asked, looking puzzled.

"I don't know," Harry said, "but I think I know where it is."

"Where?" Hermione asked, looking around at him quickly.

"The third floor corridor," Harry answered. "It's the only place that makes sense. It's guarded by a giant three headed dog."

"How do you know?" she asked.

"I've seen it," Harry said. "I had wondered what they were hiding there with such a guard."

"A stone, though?" Hermione asked. "What kind of stone? And who was it that wants it?"

"I don't know," he answered with a smile, "but a little research never hurt anyone."

Hermione nodded, returning his smile.


	7. Chapter 7: Defense Against the Dark Arts

"Anything yet?" Harry whispered around the corner.

"No, you?" Hermione answered.

"All I can find are enhancement charms that some old wizard thought benefitted from the presence of pebbles," he said, tossing it aside. "Why is this book even in the library?"

"These books just cover potion ingredients," Hermione groaned.

Their second month of searching in the library was providing no more answers than the prior two. Harry shut the next book in frustration. What they had overheard had been so vague it could have referred to almost anything. Of course, it wouldn't be just any stone if it was heavily guarded and sought after.

As interesting as the idea of a giant, expensive gem sounded, both of them had immediately dismissed it. Banks could protect regular jewelry, and why would Hogwarts have one large jewel? It wasn't something the school would have to display, so it had to have a magical use. They just could not understand what could be that valuable.

"We'd better get going," he said after a moment. "The next class will begin soon."

"Alright," Hermione said, sighing. After a moment of stuffing books back into their shelves and gathering up their bags, the pair left the library in relative silence, both still pondering the problem.

As they reached the stairs, Harry said, "Maybe we're going about it wrong. Could it be something historical? An artifact famous for something?"

"Or maybe it's so new that it wouldn't be in the library," she countered. "If it was an experimental object of Dumbledore's they wouldn't want it kept somewhere else, would they?"

"Would the Ministry let them keep something potentially dangerous?" Harry asked.

Hermione raised an eyebrow looking at him.

"What?" he asked.

"It's guarded by a three-headed dog," she said, smirking. "Whether the Ministry cares or not, I don't think danger is keeping them from doing it."

"What if it's so dangerous a three-headed dog is minor by comparison?" Harry asked, reaching for explanations.

"Oi, Harry!" came a voice. Harry looked up to see the looming form of Hagrid, the caretaker. "Where ya been? Ya haven' come down ta see me 'n Fang in ages!"

"Oh, sorry Hagrid," Harry said. "I've been busy with studies."

"O' course," the giant man said, smiling down at the two of them. "A student now an' all."

Harry just smiled back. Hagrid had always been kind to him, he had apparently brought Harry here after his parents had died. Harry heard that from Professor McGonagall a year or two before. Hagrid had never said anything, and Harry suspected he would be embarrassed if Harry brought it up.

"Well, I best be getting back to the bowtruckles; somethin' has spooked 'em. Come by any time, and ya can bring yer friend, as well," he added, nodding in Hermione's direction.

"Bye Hagrid," Harry said, watching the big form descend in front of them.

"He's the gamekeeper, right?" Hermione asked, looking the way Harry was.

"Hagrid is the gamekeeper and the keeper of the keys of Hogwarts," Harry said, repeating what he had heard Hagrid say on many occasions.

"What does the keeper of the keys mean when Hogwarts is filled with wizards and witches?" Hermione asked, furrowing her brow.

"I've never really asked," Harry admitted. "But he seems very proud of it."

Hermione laughed. "He seems nice," she said.

"He is," Harry asserted, "just watch out for his rock cakes, they're a bit tough to chew."

"I'll keep that in mind," she said, smiling.

"Oh, almost class time," Harry said, seeing students darting past them on the stair. "I'll see you after dinner. At the library?"

"Yes, but I do have to get my homework done," she said. "Our research will have to wait."

They parted and Harry hurried down to the classroom for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Their latest DADA professor, Professor Quirrell, had graduated from Hogwarts several years before. Harry knew him mostly for his previous post as the Muggle Studies professor before he took a sabbatical. After a disastrous run-in with vampires somewhere in Bulgaria, he had given up the adventures and returned to teach DADA at Hogwarts.

Harry, who had seen a number of the classes taught previously, found the lessons dry and boring. Quirrell mostly discussed things he had faced in the world, and discussed general theories. They never seemed to learn anything practical. Maybe he had lost his nerve completely out there in the wild. Harry spent most of the lessons reading from more advanced defensive magic books he had found in the library. Understanding the theory was nice, but he wished he could have opportunities to test out a few of these interesting spells he had read about.

"C-c-class," Quirrell said as Harry slipped into his seat, "today we will read chapter f-f-four. P-p-please w-wait until the end of c-c-class if you have any q-q-q-questions."

The professor looked out over his class, eyes wide and staring, his scared appearance odd beneath an old, battered turban that sat lopsided on his head. Some said he was afraid of vampires coming for him, so he would wear the turban with garlic hidden inside to keep them away. He also stuttered constantly, another new addition to the professor's behavior since he had returned. Harry had never known him to mispronounce a word before.

Sighing quietly, Harry pulled out the latest library book he was reading through, wrapped carefully in a cover he had created so that it looked just like the other books across the room. He had read chapter four, an essay on the use and mis-use of wands in defense. It was dry material based on common sense and written by someone who may or may not have ever actually held a wand. He turned to chapter thirty-seven of his library book, Advanced Dueling Tactics, and smiled. He had never been a part of a single duel, but that didn't mean he never would.

A few students had attempted duels in his time, but usually the ones he had seen had been paltry efforts. Wow, he disarmed his opponent without dropping his own wand in the process! Fortunately, that sort of failure kept the school relatively safe. Competent duels between fully trained wizards were messy and often incredibly dangerous to the participants and bystanders. The worst you saw around Hogwarts was a charm to mess with someone's hair or grow out fingernails.

The school didn't teach dueling in any class for that basic reason. People who would duel for a living, Aurors and other Magical Law Enforcement, went through additional training to learn the proper techniques. Harry was studying the various strategies they would employ with discussed positive and negative consequences, thinking about what it meant. He could understand the different points of view, but saw flaws in some of the simpler styles that would leave the dueler exposed.

"Mr. P-p-potter?" Quirrell said from the front of the room.

"Er, yes, professor?" Harry asked, looking up to see the rest of the room looking at him.

"Y-y-you are w-w-waving your w-wand, M-m-mr. Potter," Quirrell said, looking terrified. "N-no w-wands, now. R-r-reading."

"Sorry, professor," Harry said, stowing his wand, embarrassed. He hadn't realized he was gesturing and practicing wand movements accidentally.

Looking down at his book again, he heard the rest of the class settle back into theirs. The flip of a page or two and the crinkle sound of pages being pressed by leaning elbows filled the air. Harry thought he could hear someone snore in the back of the class. Back to normal.

Harry left the class feeling embarrassed. He didn't meet anyone's eyes on the way to the Great Hall, feeling as though everyone would suddenly know he had been messing around in class. Quirrell hadn't seemed upset; he hadn't shouted or told off Harry. The boy was more shocked for making a spectacle of himself.

"How was DADA?" Hermione asked, coming up beside him as he walked.

He started, but gave her a shaky smile. "I, er, it was fine, I guess."

"We still reading this week?" she asked.

"Yeah," he answered, leaving it at that.

"I wish we could be learning defensive magic, seriously," she said. "Transfigurations and Charms are much more hands on."

"Er, Harry," Hermione said as they descended the stairs.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"I think we may have to postpone our library trip?" she said, looking a bit disappointed.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Er, Harry…I think we forgot it's Halloween," she said, pointing at the giant banner over the doorway.

"You, wait…." a voice said from behind him.

Harry turned to see the twins looking at them as though Christmas had arrived early.

George looked at his twin before turning back to them. "You two bookworms didn't notice all of the decorations at lunch?"

"And breakfast?" Fred added, his eyebrows deep in forehead.

"And yesterday when they started it?" George threw in.

"Also, the date?" Fred asked.

"I, er, we," Harry started, but stopped, flustered and embarrassed.

"We've been pre-occupied," Hermione threw in. "Not everyone is so un-busy they can anticipate pseudo-holidays."

"So, the giant pumpkins…" Fred began.

"And the bats flying around at lunch?" George added.

"Not ringing a bell?" Fred said.

"Shut up," Harry muttered. "We got food and went to the library."

"We didn't really hang around," Hermione said, defensive.

"Oh?" Fred asked, his eyebrows raising. "Does Madam Pince know what you're up to in the library?"

"Harry, you dog," George said.

"Nothing," Harry said, "we were studying. You should look into it once in a while."

"Honestly," Fred said, "I thought you two had promise."

"You're in Gryffindor, for Circe's sake," George said to Hermione.

"And I can't believe I thought you might belong there," Fred said, shaking his head in disgust at Harry.

"What a waste, honestly," George said as the pair of them headed through the doors ahead of them.

They emerged into the Great Hall, enveloped in the light of hundreds of pumpkins floating in the air. Hagrid had provided a few large pumpkins to adorn the front dais where the teachers sat. Harry felt shamefaced that he had not noticed any of this earlier in the day. It was like a giant, neon sign saying, "It is Halloween, rejoice!" and he hadn't noticed.

The four separated to their two different House tables, and Harry had a moment of regret. Even though the twins had been teasing Hermione and him, he felt off going a different direction from them. Again he felt the annoyance of the separation by Houses. He sat between Terry and Michael in a huff and largely ignored the conversation on-going.

Snacking on sweets after a delicious dinner by the house-elves, Harry lightened up his mood, listening to his housemates.

"We know ghosts and vampires are real, so why should we rule-out the possibility of zombies?" Terry was saying.

"Because," Michael said from Harry's left, "the idea of beings brought to life from the dead is Inferi. They aren't mindless wanderers looking for human brains to eat, they're sent by a specific dark wizard for a purpose. Muggles just think they're brainless kooks."

"Not in all versions of zombie lore," Terry pointed out. "In fact, many early editions were based on American Voodoo, which is a documented scapegoat used by American wizards for Muggles running into magical potions and other magical items."

"Be that as it may," Michael said, "a normal zombie by today's definitions is hungry for brains. I doubt very much that the wizards commanding Inferi would have them devour brains."

"Maybe they would do it to be funny?" Terry asked. "Given the way zombies are meant to act, one could have their Inferi act that way. The Muggles would be angry at scientists and the military, instead of looking for more disturbing causes."

"Do you even listen to yourself?" Michael demanded. "Harry, tell him how ridiculous that sounds."

Harry opened his mouth, but hadn't found the words to answer this request when he was interrupted by the distracting figure of a running and shouting Professor Quirrell coming up the hall. He reached Professor Dumbledore's chair before he said anything.

"Troll - in the Dungeons! Thought you ought to know!" he cried. Collapsing, he caused a panic. Students started screaming and speaking as they rose, looking about as though they expected the troll come through the walls.

Dumbledore shot out a number of purple blasts of sparks, catching the attention of everyone in the room. Silence fell.

"Prefects," he called, his deep voice reverberating through the hall, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately."

All of the prefects began to mobilise, their own panics forgotten in the wake of Dumbledore's orders. The Ravenclaw prefects took their positions along the row on both sides, urging their fellow students to move along calmly and quietly. One Harry knew gave him a firm nod and patted his shoulder as Harry shuffled past.

'A troll, wow,' he found himself thinking as the he went. That was something different. They weren't the most intelligent of creatures, but their size and strength made them incredibly dangerous. They could be defeated in a number of ways; Harry could think of a dozen that should stop a fully grown troll. Of course, the type would matter. Mountain trolls had different weaknesses to the Forest and River varieties. It was more likely that one which had wandered in at Hogwarts would be Forest or Mountain based on the location.

Still, why had a troll wandered into Hogwarts? Had it wandered in? That seemed a bit farfetched based on their general patterns. So, why…?

It struck Harry like a bolt. They had been doing all this research to guess what someone might be after, and he didn't realise it was all right under his nose the whole time. He ducked carefully out of line, slipping through the mess of students all exiting at once. Squeezing between people and saying "Sorry" repeatedly, he leaned left and right looking for that bushy head of hair.

When he was sure she was no longer in the Great Hall, he allowed himself to flow out with the other students, following the line of Gryffindors as they rose up the stairs to the side. Everyone was pushing so much that no one noticed a first year Ravenclaw pushing his way through the Gryffindor lines. Despite the prefects' efforts, the crowd was not organised. Students were moving about in the lines to talk to friends who had gotten ahead or fallen behind, leading to thick knots that blocked the stairway and landings.

In the bobbing and stop-and-start of the mass ahead of him, Harry picked out Hermione talking to another Gryffindor first year, the twin sister of Padma, from his house. He made a bee-line for her, or as much of one as he could make amid the clumping students. Harry caught up with them as they approached the third floor landing.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, turning from Parvati. "Shouldn't you be with the Ravenclaws?"

"Hermione," he said, gesturing her out of easy earshot of her companion.

She moved closer. "What's wrong, Harry?" she asked. "You look worried."

"I think they're using the troll as a diversion, Hermione."

"Th-they?" she asked, looking around quickly as though someone would pop up behind her.

"You know," he said, whispering in earnest, "the ones after the mystery object on the third floor."

"Doesn't that seem like a big risk, Harry?" she asked, looking around. "Everyone was in the Great Hall before, now we're all moving around the castle."

"Maybe, but I think they are going to try for it," he said.

"And you're going to do what?" she asked, putting one hand on her side, "Do you think you can stop them? Grown wizards?"

"No," he said, "but maybe we can find out who it was we heard up in the tower. We could tell the professors."

"I-I dunno, Harry," she said, looking worried.

"Come on," he said, "we should at least look. It's right through that hallway." He pointed across the landing they were approaching. "We can be gone and back in no time."

"Oh-ok," she said, looking around as though for anyone who might notice them. Parvati and the others Hermione had been walking with had continued on and were halfway up the stairs ahead. No one around them seemed to notice anything odd.

They slipped around the corner at the landing, slipping through the doorway into the hall adjacent to the one the three headed dog occupied. All was quiet outside the shuffling of feet outside. The door shut behind them, and they crept forward, both listening and jumping at any sudden sounds, mostly the sounds they made when reacting to the sounds they made.

"Slipping off for another snog, you two?" came a voice from behind them.

"Making quite a habit of it, aren't you?" said a nearly identical voice.

"Not that we're against sneaking about, per say."

"But this is a bit more dangerous a time than usual."

Harry and Hermione turned to see the cheshire smiles of both twins facing them. Their owners leaned against the wall as if it was the most casual of occasions.

"Look," Harry said, irritated. "We're not off…s-snogging, you two."

"Then what are you up to?" Fred asked, his left eyebrow waggling.

"We-" Hermione began.

"We can't say," Harry said, looking away from them.

"Then you don't mind a couple of handsome knights," George began.

"In glorious red armour," Fred added.

"Accompanying you out of curiosity, then, do you?" George ended.

"Fine if you'll shut up," Harry whispered fiercely.

"Oh, the little tiger has teeth," Fred said, but more quietly.

"We should be afraid, dear brother," George said, shaking with quiet laughter.

"We're not the dangerous ones here," Hermione said. She held a finger to her lips, pointing towards the door.

Despite the twins jests, they quieted with her and Harry. A thunderous low growl rippled into repeated deafening barks. Doors slammed on the other end of the adjacent room, and they could hear a cry. The four of them rushed up to the door, and opened it.

The flutter of a black cloak swished as it exited by a door to one side, but none of them could see whom it had been. The three headed dog was barking and smashing two of its heads against the far door after the figure, not having seen the new intruders yet. Before it could, Harry pulled everyone back and slipped the door closed.

"What was that?" the twins asked as one.

"A giant three-headed dog," Harry said, quietly. "It's guarding something."

"How do you-" they began.

"We overheard someone talking about getting something, but we don't know what," Hermione added, throwing caution to the wind.

"So you thought you could stop them?" Fred asked, eyebrow quirked.

"Not so bright, you two," George added.

"Hush," Harry said. "We only wanted to see who would go for it."

"Well, you forgot there was a second door we couldn't watch," Hermione said, wringing her hands.

"I didn't forget, Hermione," Harry said, looking at the other three serious faces. "There wasn't another door there before."

"Someone must have created it to sneak in," George said.

"We've heard of magic like that," Fred said, looking somewhat suspicious. "Not that we'd ever…"

"Us upstanding types? Never!" George declared.

"But, anyway they have gotten away," Hermione said, "And we don't even know if they got it or not."

"I don't think so," Harry said. "It was too fast, and the dogs were so fast. If they had gotten past it, the dogs would have been out or Confunded or something."

"But we can't be sure," Fred said. "They could have made sure the dog looked fine afterwards to hide what they did."

"Maybe," Harry said, moving towards the door to the landing. "But we should get back, for now. People will notice we're gone."

"Ah, Harry, you spoilsport," Fred said, following anyway.

"This was just starting to get fun," George added, holding up his hands in a gesture of giving up.

"I'm worried that if they get what they want," Harry said, looking back at the dog's door, "it will be anything but fun."


	8. Chapter 8: The First Match

An icy chill filled Harry's leg and he jerked awake. He shuddered, looking down at his right leg, hanging out of his covers. The air in the dorm was icy, and the swirl of breeze that struck his leg convinced him that someone must have left a window cracked. In the freezing first burst of winter, leaving a window open was a recipe for a sudden shock. He debated finding the window, but changed his mind, tugging in his exposed leg so that it could join the rest of him, warm and cozy.

He didn't have to rise yet, but he suddenly found that he couldn't sleep any more. Huddled in the covers, he thought about the year he had had so far. A lot had changed since he started attending Hogwarts as a student. He missed his days of free roaming and exploring, but learning real magic and having friends his own age was something he did enjoy.

Still, the whole intrigue around the three-headed dog and whatever it was that it was guarding had been unusual. Things at Hogwarts were busy and hectic, but a predictable hectic. People struggled with classes, magic spells were used here and their, accidentally or otherwise, and people argued (at times adamantly) for their favourite Quidditch team. That all still happened, but it felt more like an echo, something in the background now that Harry had this new concern. Even his classes had taken more of a backseat when he became really interested in what they might find.

A howl rolled through the room, and Harry could feel a cold ripple as the harsh wind threw the window wider open. A groan came from someone on the other side of the room, and there was a loud slam and click as it was bolted closed. A thump signalled his dorm mate must have gotten back in bed. The room gradually warmed after the cold was kept at bay, and Harry drifted back off to sleep, forgetting, for a moment, the thoughts that had kept him awake.

The first ray of sun burst through the windows, striking Harry's face suddenly. He blinked, scrunched his eyes, and sat up. Groaning, he pulled on some clothes while his dorm mates slept. He had somewhere to be, and a number of people would be upset if he was late. Today was not the day to be caught up with Malfoy in the hallways. Somehow, though, he doubted even Malfoy's need to annoy was strong enough to get him out of bed this early.

He left the dorm, passed down the stairs, and through the empty common room. The rest of the journey down through the castle was equally empty, such that Harry began to wonder if he had mistaken the day. When he reached the pitch, however, it was a different story. Two professors were working in the stands, arranging rows that had fallen over from the wind storm the other night, clearing up clumps of leaves that had piled here and there, and generally preparing for three quarters of the school to arrive shortly.

He could see a couple Hufflepuffs taking to the air, flying about the pitch and practicing some moves. Harry didn't pause, however, as he knew the Ravenclaws would be in the changing room. Amanda would be giving the team a pre-match speech. Making a bee-line for the changing room, Harry arrived as Cynthia and Gordon were having a row about something.

"You ass," she was saying. "You know he's-" She paused, her finger in Gordon's face.

Seeing Harry had arrived, both turned and finished putting on their uniforms. None of the other members of the team were in the changing room, yet.

"Hi," Harry said, breaking the silence. "We ready to crush Hufflepuff?" he added, tentative.

"Damn right we are," Cynthia said, tugging on her boots a little harder than was necessary.

"Good," Harry said, beginning to pull on his smaller uniform. They didn't wear the uniforms in practice, typically. Amanda felt they were best left for when the team wanted to show off. Despite having the smallest uniform in the bunch, Harry's was just a bit large for him. He tugged everything as tight as it would go, and pretended that he wasn't worried his pants would fall off while he was flying.

The others arrived as he got ready, Heth popping the last bite of breakfast in his mouth as he went.

"Didn't you three come down for breakfast?" Amanda asked. "You'll need your strength."

"Not hungry," Harry said, offhand.

"Well, get hungry," Arnold said, putting on a fierce expression, "for Hufflepuff defeat!"

Harry groaned.

"That was awful," Cynthia said from the bench.

Amanda just shook her head, saying, "Puns aside, I know this is the best prepared team we've had since I started at Hogwarts. We've got three talented Chasers ready to show those sodding Hufflepuffs what for, a Keeper who could stop a fly out of his hoops, our belligerent beater duo, and a Seeker who can beat any out there with a school broom."

"I want to see him play with his own broom next year," Arnold said. "That'll be something."

"Until then," Amanda said, "he'll just have to make them look bad on a school broom."

"Here, here," cried the team.

"I'm not going to go on and on. You know what we've practiced, you know what you can do, together," she said. "Let's win one for all the second year students who have never seen us beat Hufflepuff!"

"Yeah!" the exclaimed.

"Let's do it!" Cynthia shouted, fierce.

They left the changing room, pumped and ready to go. Amanda put a hand on Harry's shoulder as they went out there. "Angus Fendrick is a good Seeker, Harry," she said. "He's small, quick, and agile, so don't underestimate him." Looking at him, she added, "But my money's on you. I know you will beat him."

"Th-thanks," he said, blushing. "I'll do my best."

"Good," she said, leading him out into the open field.

The crowds were packed into the stands. Harry could almost not believe these were the same empty stands from so little time ago. Sleep-deprived students had come out in droves to see the match. Though Slytherin was the favourite for the year, every match attracted a large audience. Harry wondered, as they marched to the centre of the field to line up, if any of this crowd was here simply out of curiosity. He was the youngest seeker at Hogwarts since 1893 when Levian Abbott had emerged as one of the world's best seekers from a young age. His snitch capture record was impressive to this day. Feeling this record hanging over his head, Harry sighed. Did they expect that of him?

Setting himself in front of Angus, the Hufflepuff Seeker, Harry shook his head. He had to worry about this opponent, not countless Levian had faced, nor Levian himself. One opponent, one game. That was all this was. Breathing deep, Harry prepared to fly. Mounting his broom, they watched Madam Hooch release the balls, mount her own broom, and blow on her whistle. Everything was a blur of colour as the teams flew off into the sky.

Harry hovered high, circling in oscillating ovals over the pitch, slower and faster. He tried to ignore the flow of the game below him, knowing it would only distract him from what he was about. Below and a little behind, Harry could see Angus from the corner of his eye. Typical. Seeker spotting was one of the oldest tricks in the book. Angus didn't have to find the snitch, he just had to let Harry find it and out race him to it. Harry could see from the distance the older student gave Harry that he considered his broom far superior to Harry's. He sighed again, this time in relief. This could be easier than he thought.

Cynthia had scored two goals unreturned when it happened. The first jerk was so sudden Harry almost flew over the end of his broom. Tightening his grip, he vowed to keep better control while he searched. What followed was a flurry of jerks and twists, sending his broom spinning in directions he had no intention of going. There was seriously something wrong with the broom.

All of his concentration was caught up in keeping atop the slender stick of wood, but the broom appeared to be doing anything it could to buck him. It angled him upwards as it went, forgetting the even oval trajectory he had given it. Harry began to suspect someone was deliberately messing with his broom. School broom or not, this one had never done anything out of the ordinary while he was riding it. It might tend a bit more towards the left, but he had long learned to compensate for that while flying. This was a violence he hadn't witnessed in even the worst of the school brooms.

The team seemed not to have noticed what was going on, such was their fervour to win this game. Harry couldn't see Angus anymore, but he suspected the other Seeker had simply flown off when Harry stopped flying normally. As he looked around for anyone to signal for help, Harry felt a particularly rough jolt and he was thrown over the front of his broom. Only his right hand retained its grip, but that would not last. He was too high to safely land on the grass below. The stadium stands were well beneath him by this time. If he hit the ground at falling speed he would die.

Getting back on the broom did not seem to be an option, either. It continued to fight him with no let-up, and he could hardly hold on with his hands, much less leverage his way back on top. The action beneath him was still just as furious as before, but he couldn't make out what was happening. The fliers weaved to and fro beneath him, towards one goal and the other. At times, he could see bodies directly beneath him, at others the grass far below. If he fell on a player, he could hurt someone seriously, but if he struck the ground, he had no chance.

Looking down for a safe time to drop, Harry caught sight of it. The snitch. It flitted in and about the area where the chasers were battling, but none of them seemed to see it. Then, as they passed out of the way, it paused. In that second, he saw exactly what he had to do. Keeping his grip on the broom with his right hand, he pulled out his wand with the other. The snitch was still stopped below him. To one side, he could see Angus moving for it. Too slow.

Diving, Harry aimed straight down, moving to intersect the snitch before Angus reached it. In his left hand, he waved his wand and shouted, pointing at the ground below. The wind was so strong in his ears that he couldn't even hear his own voice. A ripple along the ground told him that he had succeeded in one part of his attempt. So, he reached out both his hands, feeling the broom to one side soaring towards him. Had he miscalculated?

His fingers curled around the snitch, and he could feel the end of Angus' broom strike his right leg with a crack, and he tumbled end over end the rest of the way to the ground. Praying his spell had done the trick, Harry braced. When he hit the ground, it was like landing in a pool of jello. Harry bounced a meter or two in the air before landing on a patch of solid ground. The air was knocked out of him by the force, but he was alive.

Gasping for breath, Harry clung to the ground as the sky swirled around above him. Dizzy and disoriented, Harry coughed and gagged for a moment before closing his eyes. After he had held still for a moment, the world reappeared around him. There was sound, people running and crying out. There were gasps and cries. "Harry!" was heard from all around him.

Opening his eyes, Harry saw a crowd of people had surrounded him. Madam Pomfrey was closest, looking at his leg and checking his forehead. The rest of his and the Hufflepuff team surrounded her and a bustling crowd of professors moved in from behind.

Catching Amanda's eye, he said, "I got it," holding up his fist with the struggling snitch inside.

She looked like she was about to cry. The rest of the team had serious faces, concerned, as well. These were nothing on the faces of the professors behind them. McGonagall looked about ready to hurt someone, but Harry knew that was only her concern showing. He had seen that face many times before.

"Just a broken leg and some scratches, Harry," Madam Pomfrey said, sounding thoroughly relieved. "When I saw you fall, I feared far worse."

"I made the ground spongy," Harry said, pointing off to the side he thought he had struck. He felt better, just an incredible pain in his right leg.

"Hold still," she said, "this will hurt for a moment."

He braced, biting his lip. Madam Pomfrey muttered something under her breath while waving her wand in a soothing way over his leg. The bone snapped back into place creating a surge of pain up and down its length. He cried out, but almost before it had begun, the pain was gone, and Madam Pomfrey was peering down at him with her best look of reproach fighting with a smile.

"What have I told you about these school brooms?" McGonagall said to Madam Hooch. "They're dangerous! Harry could have been hurt worse."

Madam Hooch started to reply, but Harry cut in. "Professor," he said, "I've been using that broom for ages. I started riding it when I was six. I know that broom. This was not the broom."

"But, H-" she began, "be that as it may, Harry, we could all see the broom try to buck you off. Surely you-"

"Perhaps this would best be discussed in my office later, Professor McGonagall," Dumbledore said, striding across the pitch towards them. The crowd parted around them. Taking a piercing look down at Harry, he added, "I believe Harry has some thoughts on the matter, but for now, he might want to celebrate with his team. If that is alright with you, Madam Pomfrey?"

"I would prefer to keep him under some observation, Headmaster," Pomfrey said, sounding a bit indignant. "After all, he has just fallen and I've only just mended his leg."

"Perhaps Mr. Potter can stop by for a check-up around two?" Dumbledore asked, smiling blithely. "And he can swing by my office on the way to discuss brooms."

"Th-that would be acceptable," Madam Pomfrey said. "You may go for now, Harry, but do take care."

"I will," Harry said, standing up with some support from his team.

Standing, he could see that much of the school had flooded the pitch to see what was going on. He smiled and waved to any he could see, hoping to show everyone that he was alright. A bushy head caught his eye, and he gave Hermione a smile and a nod, too. Her face was scrunched with concern, but she nodded back to him through the dozens of people between. Harry knew he'd have to give her a full recount of what had happened and his thoughts, but he probably wouldn't get to see her until tomorrow what with the Ravenclaw celebration and his visits with the Headmaster and school nurse.

A few hours later, after he had retold the story a dozen times to the Ravenclaw Tower, Harry left the after-party, promising to return when the Headmaster and nurse were done with him. He felt exhausted as he descended the steps from the common room. The morning had been tiring enough with the Quidditch game and fighting the broom, but the party after had sapped what he thought was the last of his energy.

He was crossing the hall to the main stairs when Harry over heard crying. Unable to leave someone who needed help, Harry slipped over to the classroom, and peaked in. Amanda was sitting alone on the professor's desk, dangling her legs toward the ground. Her chin was leaned on her chest, quiet sobs shaking her.

"Amanda?" he asked.

"H-Harry?" she said.

"Yeah," he answered. "I heard you- I'm sorry to disturb you, I just…"

"N-no," she said, "it's okay." She got down from the desk and came over to him. Looking down at him, she said, "I'm so sorry, Harry. It's all my fault. I should't have let you play on the team with those rickety old brooms. I knew something bad was going to come of it, and you could have been hurt much worse than you were. I was weak, and thought you could show everyone that you were a great Quidditch player. You're too young and I shouldn't have… I'm sorry."

"Amanda," he said, but she sobbed and didn't listen. "Captain," he said, his voice harder. She looked up, eyes still wet with tears. "It isn't your fault. You didn't make the broom go haywire."

"I know, but I-"

"It wasn't the broom," Harry said, darkly. "Someone was manipulating my broom to make me fall."

"What?" she asked, looking shaken. "But who would do that?"

"Who indeed?" came a voice from behind them. Both of them turned to see Dumbledore, Flitwick, and McGonagall entering.

"Professor Dumbledore," Amanda said, wiping her tears quickly on her shirt.

"Professor," Harry said, "I was just on my way to your office when I ran into Amanda."

"No trouble, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Professors McGonagall, Flitwick and I were on our way to meet you, as well. A happy chance we met here. Ms. Brawn, from all I have heard, I believe Harry is correct. It does seem as though someone was hexing his broom. I would not worry too much for our young Harry. He seems to be in one piece."

"Th-thank you, Professor," Amanda said, sounding not too much more cheered.

"Would you mind waiting outside a moment, Ms. Brawn," Dumbledore said. "I'd like to hear Harry's thoughts on this for a moment, but I will want to speak with you and Filius about another matter in a moment."

"Y-yes, professor," Amanda said, stepping outside.

When the door closed, Dumbledore asked Harry to repeat what had happened. Harry described it as well as he could, trying to recall every detail of that morning.

"Did you see anyone near the brooms when you arrived?" Dumbledore asked.

"No, professor," Harry said.

"But they haven't been too well secured," McGonagall said. "Anyone could have done something to them.

"It flew fine, at first," Harry said. "And appeared to suddenly change."

"A delayed charm might have been in effect," Flitwick added. "There is no way to be sure."

"Can you check the broom?" Harry asked.

"We have," Professor Dumbledore said. "Professor Flitwick found it caught in a low-hanging branch of the Forbidden Forest. Preliminary testing has not found anything, yet."

"More worrying than how, I think," McGonagall said, "is why?"

"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "Harry, can you think of a reason?"

Harry paused. He knew about the people conspiring to go after the hidden thing behind the three-headed dog, and Hermione and he had been researching it, but there was no way to know if the culprits were aware of Harry and Hermione's actions. They had never been caught listening in nor had they seen the person's responsible. He assumed this could not be the reason.

"I don't know, sir," Harry said. "Perhaps an old follower of You-Know-Who?"

"Most have been accounted for, or at least are pretending to have changed their ways," Dumbledore said, offhand. "It seems a bit out of the blue to attack you in such an open manner."

"That is worrisome, Headmaster," McGonagall said. "Should Harry continue playing Quidditch if there is such a risk?"

"I still want to play," Harry broke in. "I'm not scared."

"It's not a matter of wanting to, Harry," McGonagall said gently. "We're looking out for your safety."

"What do you think, Filius?" Dumbledore asked. "Harry is in your house."

"Hmm," Flitwick said, focusing on Harry. "Perhaps we could have a staff supervise the practice sessions and we can use a bit more care in preparing the field for play. Harry's sponge spell would be useful in protecting falling players, at least. And I can think of other useful spells to keep an eye on things."

"You still want him to play?" McGonagall asked, "after all of that?"

"If someone wants to stop Harry," Dumbledore said, "not letting him play is exactly what they want."

"That doesn't mean we should-"

"I will attend the next match, as well," Dumbledore said. "If it does not discourage our attacker, at least I might be able to ferret one out and protect Harry, to boot."

Harry beamed. "Thank you, Headmaster."

"Of course, Harry," Dumbledore smiled back. "You may go, I think. Please sent in Ms. Brawn."

"Yes, Headmaster," he said, heading towards the door.

"Oh, and Harry," Dumbledore said.

"Yes?"

"Nice catch, by the way."


	9. Chapter 9: After the Match

"Do-do you think it has to do with the people we overheard?" Hermione asked, looking frightened.

"No," Harry said, voicing what he had decided to believe. They walked a slow circle around the lake, bundled up against the bitter cold. "It doesn't make sense. No one saw us, and why would they come after me in such a public way if they were avoiding attention."

"Would it be a student then?" She asked, looking loathe to think that way. "Someone who wanted you to lose the match?"

"Didn't work out, if so," Harry said with a smile. "But who would want to that much? That wasn't just to stop me. Someone wanted me hurt...or worse."

There was a pause. Both kept to their thoughts, and the only sound was the dry crunch of long dead leaves slowly being mulched by their feet. The shore of the lake was empty; everyone else had opted to stay indoors on a day like this. It gave them license to speak freely, though. No one would overhear them out here.

"You don't suppose it is related to You-Know-Who, do you?" Hermione asked after a time.

"I had thought of that," Harry said, "but Dumbledore didn't think it likely."

"He might just be shielding you from his suspicions," she stated wisely.

"True," Harry answered. "But it doesn't help narrow anything down."

"If it was obvious," she said, "Dumbledore would do something about it."

"They are though," Harry said. "The professors are going to keep a closer eye on things at the next match and at practices."

"You still want to play?" she asked, sounding shocked. "Harry, it's just a game and you could be hurt."

"Quidditch is more than just a game, Hermione," he said. "It's about the team and the house and doing something that you love."

"But-"

"There is always a risk of falling or being hit while playing," Harry cut in. "I'll be careful."

Hermione shook her head, sighing. "Boys," she muttered.

They walked in a quiet thoughtfulness for a moment. Harry began thinking about how someone could have affected the broom and spells he could use to protect himself next time. It was difficult to use spells directly on a broom, their magical configurations were complex and naturally repelled most abjurations. So it had to have been something powerful and disruptive to interfere with the natural action of the broom.

"Oi, Harry!" Hagrid shouted from down the way.

Harry waved back and they approached the half giant, meeting him near where students would often relax by the shore. Even the giant squid was nowhere to be seen on this chill day.

"What're you two doin' out 'ere?" Hagrid asked. "Ye'll catch yet death 'a cold."

"Just going for a walk, Hagrid," Harry said.

"Well, ye up for a cuppa?" the large man asked. "Ye still haven' come by."

"Sure, Hagrid," Harry answered. "Hermione too?"

"'Course," Hagrid said through his bushy beard, a smile shifted aside some of the whiskers.

"How have you been?" Harry asked as they set off.

"Been busy, haven' I?" Hagrid said. "Been some problems in the Forest a' late."

"What kind of trouble?" Harry asked.

"Been some creatures in the Forest hurt and no sign a' how."

"New predators?" Hermione asked.

"Nah, nuffin like that," Hagrid said, waving a great hand dismissively. "Mos' magical predators'll go after whatever, but mos'ly unicorns an' a few bowtruckles, an' not regular like."

"How are they being hurt?" Harry asked.

"Jus' unusual places like," Hagrid said, "but tha's not for the students ta think about, eh?"

He opened the door to his home, a separate dwelling from the school, near the forest. In essence, it was the perfect spot for someone overseeing the grounds of Hogwarts. Harry liked Hagrid's home, messy as it often was. It had a home feel, well lived in and enjoyed. Hagrid had lived here for quite some time, clearly.

Hermione looked around with a tentative look of appraisal. The walls were covered in items of his trade or interesting hairs and horns he had found. Hagrid looked at her, as though looking for some approval. She smiled, bringing out his beaming expression.

"Welcome to me home," he said. "Make yerselves at home, a course. I'll get yer tea an some cakes."

Harry and Hermione sat on a couple giant chairs around Hagrid's table. Harry wondered if Hagrid would usually take turns changing which chair he sat in or if some were just reserved for guests. While they waited, Hagrid bustled around, boiling water and grabbing cups, plates, and cakes that lived up to the name rock.

"Nice house, Hagrid," Hermione said. "How long have you lived here?"

"Ah," Hagrid said, pausing long enough to scratch his head. "Can' remember right. Been ages, anyhow."

He served up the tea and cakes before them. The pair eagerly sipped the hot tea, feeling it warm their insides and nibbled politely on the incredibly hard treat.

"Thank you," Hermione managed between bites.

"Yes, Hagrid, always good," Harry added.

"So, Harry," Hagrid began as Harry took a deep drink of the tea. "How're ye after the game an' all?"

"I'm good," Harry said, "Madam Pomfrey healed my leg immediately."

"I mean, what with the fall an' someone tryin' ta hurt ye."

"I'm alright," Harry said. "I made it out okay and they're going to make it safer for the next game."

"Heard you were gonna keep playin'," Hagrid said shaking his head. "Like yer father, eh?"

"Hagrid, I-"

"Glad yer alrigh', Harry," Hagrid said, smiling sadly at Harry. "Were scary is all, it were, seein' ye up there like that an' all."

"I-I" Harry said, "I'm sorry, Hagrid."

"Na' yer fault, 'course," Hagrid responded, taking a swig from his flagon. "It's them that wanted ter hurt ya."

"Flitwick said he was going to use the bouncing spell on more of the ground at the pitch," Harry said, lightly.

"An' it's amazin' ta think no one thought a' that before ya, Harry."

"It really was quick thinking, Harry," Hermione said, looking impressed. "And think of all the students who could benefit from a safer pitch!"

"It wasn't that great," Harry said, scratching his head. "It's just all I could think of. I'm sure anyone would have thought of something."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but they didn't push the issue. They talked for a few minutes about the chances of the Quidditch teams going forward. Hermione looked out the window for a few minutes as the other two spoke. She looked lost in thought when Harry changed the subject abruptly.

"Hagrid, you take care of loads of magical creatures, right?" he asked.

"'Course, Harry," Hagrid replied, proudly. "Take good care 'o them."

"Have you ever heard of giant three headed dogs?" Harry asked. "I can't seem to find them in the library."

"You know about Fluffy?" Hagrid asked, taken aback.

"It has a name?" Hermione asked, suddenly back in the conversation.

"Fluffy?" Harry asked at the same time.

"Well, sure," Hagrid said. "They're a bit rare, new breed. Expect I've got the only one in England here at Hogwarts."

"But why is he in the castle?" Harry asked.

"Can' tell you that, Harry," Hagrid said. "Tha's secret that is."

"But, Hagrid," Harry began.

"More'n me jobs worth, Harry, believe me," Hagrid cut him off. "That's between Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel."

"Oh?" Hermione asked.

"Nicholas Flamel?" Harry asked.

Hagrid looked alarmed at what he had said, saying, "I think it might be time to head off, you two'll have your studies to attend to, an' classes tomorrow an' all."

"S-sure, Hagrid," Harry said. "Thanks for having us."

"Yes, thanks for the tea and cakes," Hermione added.

"Any time, any time," Hagrid said, holding the door for them as they rose to go. "An' no more thinkin' about tha' dog. It's not for you two ta' worry about."

"Fine, fine," Harry said as they left.

"You pay attention to yer flying fer the next game, eh?" Hagrid called after them, shutting the door after watching them a moment.

"Hmm, Flamel, eh?" Harry said to Hermione as they made their way up to the castle.

Hermione pulled her coat close about her, blocking out a sudden gust of wind. "The name sounds familiar," she said, "I feel like I've read it before."

"Not much into chocolate frog cards, I take it?" Harry asked, smirking at her.

"No, not-" she began, stopping to look at him. "Does he have one?"

"No, but Dumbledore does," Harry said, "and I remember it mentioned his name."

"What did he do?" Hermione asked.

"Something to do with dragon's blood," Harry said. "It's been a while since I read it."

"Do you have one?" she asked, sounding excited.

"I might still," Harry said. "I have traded most of mine over the years to get rare ones, but he's a pretty common one."

"Dragon's blood," Hermione said, "Dumbledore is known for discovering the twelve uses of dragon's blood, but…"

Harry pushed open the door to the Entrance Hall, flooding the floor in front of them with that same pale cloudy day light. He was about to reply to Hermione's thought when he stopped. Marching across the hall was a grimace faced Professor McGonagall, a roll of parchment curled in her hand. She brushed past a few other students crossing the hall, making a line for Harry and Hermione. Harry felt a clench in his stomach, fearing she had caught wind somehow of their investigation into whatever the dog was hiding, or was there something he couldn't remember?

"Potter," she began, full of formality that was unusual between the two of them. She thrust the parchment into his hand.

Looking at it, he raised his eyes in surprise. "A broom order form?" he asked.

She continued, "As you have decided to continue on with Quidditch for the Ravenclaw team, the Headmaster has recommended that we make an exception to the rule against first years owning brooms. The school brooms are much more exposed than one you own yourself."

"Oh, th-thanks, professor," Harry said.

"Please inform one of the staff when your broom arrives," she said. "Flitwick and I have a few ideas for spells of protection and the like."

"Ye-yes," he said, "thanks, again."

"Well," she said, briskly, "off with you two. I'm sure you'll have things to do before dinner."

She swept off with the same suddenness that she had appeared, leaving Harry and Hermione a bit speechless.

"Wow," he said after a few moments.

"Your own broom, Harry," Hermione said, smiling over at him. "What are you going to get?"

"I don't-" he began. "I'll have a look through the order form, I suppose. I was planning to get one next year, but if they want me to get one, that works out."

"How are you going to-" she said, speaking carefully.

"My parents left me enough money for things like that," he answered. "I should be fine through school, at least."

"Oh," Hermione said. Changing topics, she said, "Is she always like that?"

"Mostly," he said, laughing. "Come on, we do have some studying before dinner."

"And Flamel?" she asked.

"I'll look through my Chocolate Frog cards tonight," he answered. "We have time to look into him, but Snape's essay won't wait."

They ascended the stairs working their way up towards the library. A few students passed to and fro, trying to make the most of the day before the school week began. Harry caught bits of conversation as people passed, but the pair of them remained quiet, thoughtful on the way up.

At the entrance to the library, Draco and his goons were leaning against the wall.

"Ah," Draco said, "thought we'd see you here at some point or another."

Harry ignored him, planning to walk between them, but the behemoth duo moved to block the way in.

"Thought you'd want to take a break after the…break," Draco said tilting his chin towards Harry's right leg.

"Thought wrong then," Harry said.

"You must think you're something," Draco said, voice low and menacing. "Hero of Ravenclaw. Willing to leap from a broom to catch a snitch. What a laugh. Did you miss your mommy and daddy so much you wanted to end it all? Is that it?"

"Would you let us through?" Harry asked, feeling heat enter his face. "Some of us would like to have passing marks this term."

"Oh, would your parents not approve of a failure?" Draco asked, his smirk plastered across his face. "Oh, I suppose you wouldn't know…"

"Yours must, considering the company you keep," Harry spat.

"Why you little," Draco growled, voice growing louder.

"What is going on out here?" Madam Pince demanded, her voice silencing all of them in an instant.

"We're just trying to study in the library, Madam Pince," Hermione said, quietly.

"Then, come in, quietly," she said, her voice sounding stern as always. Looking at Draco and his gang, she added, "And you three, stop loitering. You are obviously not looking for a book, so get, on your way."

Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle skulked off, obviously unhappy. Harry and Hermione entered the library, finally free of all the random interruptions. Here, it would be quiet, and they could get some serious work done. Finding an open corner, the pair pulled out all of their books and began working on essays and reading for the next day. They didn't say much, but there wasn't much to say. It was the first peaceful moment since the match, and Harry enjoyed sharing it with Hermione.


	10. Chapter 10: The Conspiracy Grows

"This is it, Harry!" Hermione gasped. "I knew we'd find it."

Harry put down the book he was perusing, turning to Hermione's end of the library bench. Amid a scattering of books, quills, and parchment, a large tome lay open. The words were in a tiny scrawl, hand written hundreds of years before; only saved from the oily fingers of hundreds of students and the years by the spells cast regularly upon the shelves and books by Madam Pince, warden and guardian of the trove of ancient knowledge. Hermione was pointing to a line midway down, in the same thin, elaborate cursive as the rest.

The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transform any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal. There have been many reports of the Philosopher's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicholas Flamel, the noted …

"It's a Philosopher's Stone?" Harry asked aloud. "They're keeping one here? Are they mad?"

"Maybe they thought it would be safer here than with Mr. Flamel, if someone is after it," Hermione said wisely.

"Maybe," Harry muttered. "Just think of the amazing magic in that one stone."

"It's incredible, isn't it?" Hermione said. "All the gold you want and you can live as long as you like. Think of how much you could accomplish?"

"That does make it more dangerous," Harry reflected. "After all, if someone is after it, they can't be up to any good."

"We didn't think they were up to any good, in the first place," Hermione countered. "Now we can at least think of why anyone would be interested in what Fluffy is guarding."

"Doesn't that seem a bit…simple?" Harry asked. "You get past a three-headed dog and you can access the greatest alchemical stone ever created."

"I'll bet they have other professors protecting it, too," Hermione said, packing up her books before they headed to class.

"Ah, yeah!" Harry exclaimed, hoisting his bag over one shoulder. "I'm sure McGonagall and Flitwick could come up with something."

"And don't forget the Headmaster," Hermione said. "He's said to be one of the greatest wizards of all time."

They shifted through the library to head to class. The library was fairly full. With only a few days before the end of term, most of the professors had set large essays to reinforce what they had learned throughout the fall. They squeezed between a few Hufflepuffs standing in the main aisle chatting before they were able to walk comfortably again.

Hermione asked, "Has your broom arrived yet?"

"It should be here any day," he said. "I can't wait!"

"It is supposed to be one of the best, right?" Hermione asked, watching Harry smile at the thought.

"Well, that's only part of it," he said.

"Why else?"

"Well," Harry answered, "it will be nice to bring my own broom so Madam Hooch doesn't spend twenty minutes examining it before each practice. It's maddening."

She was laughing as they made their way through the door when a trio of Slytherins pushed past.

Malfoy turned toward them as they left, saying, "It's amazing what some people will just talk about aloud in a crowded library. Very interesting, eh, Goyle?" He winked in Harry and Hermione's direction as he went, his constant smirk in over drive.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other as the three sped off down the corridor.

"Uh-oh," Harry said.

"Did they-?" Hermione began.

"They could have," Harry answered. "We weren't exactly whispering about it, were we?"

"How bad do you think it is?" Hermione asked.

"Bad," Harry said, sighing. "He's been little more than annoying so far, but if he goes after the stone, that could be trouble."

"Why would he need it?" She asked. "The way he talks about his family's money, he doesn't need gold, and why would he be worries about dying of old age any time soon."

"Who knows!" Harry replied. "Maybe he wants to brag about it, put the stone on his mantlepiece."

"It is a powerful magical item," Hermione said. "Maybe it has other uses..."

They had to separate before Harry could think of what those uses might be. As he worked his way to Charms class, Harry couldn't help worrying about this powerful stone in the hands of someone like Draco Malfoy or, worse, his father.

As much of a pest as Draco could be, Harry knew of his father by reputation. One of the professors - he could not remember which - had once told him that Lucius had been among the horrible band of Voldemort's followers, the dreaded Death Eaters. After Voldemort disappeared, those who weren't killed or caught pretended to be under the Imperius Curse when they ha done Voldemort's will. As that was difficult to refute, many had walked away, clean, Lucius chief among them.

Since, he had dealt mostly in politics at the Ministry, meeting and donating to all the "right" people. Harry understood that he was close to the Minister and often could be found hosting Wizengamot members in his home. The idea of someone so close to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named on the loose and with a Philosopher's Stone was rather terrifying.

Professor Flitwick interrupted his thoughts, telling him, "Harry, I understand your new broom has arrived at the owlry. Professor McGonagall will have the house elves bring it to your dormitory when we are done with the protection enchantments."

The pair entered the Charms hallway, making their way to the class together. As young as Harry was, he still towered over the short professor. He found himself leaning toward the man as they walked to speak with him more easily.

"Brilliant, professor!" he answered.

"No doubt it will help our chances in the next game, eh?" Flitwick added in a conspiratorial whisper.

"I'm sure," Harry said. "They say it is one of the fastest in the past few years."

"Well, do your best, Harry," the professor said, crossing to the front of the class to prepare his class notes and pass out the latest graded essays.

Harry took his seat. He was excited about his new broom, the new Nimbus was meant to be a revolutionary upgrade from their last pitiful offering. Several renowned Quidditch teams were outfitting their members with one. Harry heard Gwenog Jones of the Hollyhead Harpies had recently gone on a test ride, as well. He would have to wait a week or so for the professors to add their protection spells, and he did want to know more about what they came up with. Problem solving with magic wasn't strictly taught in classes, after all. Still, it wasn't the only thing on his mind today.

Draco Malfoy was going to be more of a problem. If he was after the stone as well as the two mysterious figures…it really just complicated things. Harry glanced at his paper when it came back, not top marks but close enough. He had found the more that he concentrated on this troubling topic, the lower his grades tended to go. He was worried, that was the key thing. Still, one thing comforted him, for now. With the holidays a week out, Draco would have little time to go after the stone before he was shuffled off to his manor. Coming back with orders from his father to get the stone could be a problem later, but Harry and Hermione would have time to think about what to do.

The next week passed in a blur of papers and the rapid decoration by the Hogwarts staff, and the holidays were upon them. He wished Hermione a happy Christmas at dinner, and the next day the school was all but empty. He and a few fourth and sixth year Ravenclaws were all that remained in his house. The other houses were more or less the same. He did note that the Weasley twins and two of their other brothers (the Weasleys were known for their numbers) had remained, as well. One, a prefect, sat away from them, conversing with older students in a serious and important manner. The other was Harry's age, and he hung around the twins, playing Exploding Snap at the table in the Great Hall.

As the other Ravenclaws had left dinner early, Harry grabbed his plate and cup and walked over to the Gryffindor table. He approached the twins and their brother just as Fred made a spectacular explosion that turned the youngest boy's face black with soot.

"Oh, sorry there, Ronniekins," Fred said, whooping with laughter.

"Didn't think it'd blow up that much," George added, wheezing.

"What is wrong with you two!" the youngest said, storming off in a huff. He bumped Harry's shoulder on the way past without so much as a 'Sorry.'

Harry let the twins' laughter subside before he asked, "Might I join you?"

"Ah, Harry!" Fred cried. "Just the -"

"Test subject we needed," George said, smiling sinisterly, his mouth twitching to avoid laughing.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess," he began, looking at the dark burn on the table that was slowly healing itself, "you wanted to make Exploding Snap more literal."

"First in the class," Fred said, looking proud of the younger student.

"But you still have much to learn, young apprentice," George said, stifling a snicker.

"He's my apprentice," Fred said, looking stern.

"Nope, called it first, brother mine," George said, grabbing Harry by the shoulder. "I'll train you in the ways of the prank, and you shall be a light of hope and laughter to all."

The twins gave each other a stern look, held it for about three seconds, and then burst into laughter again.

"Have a seat, Harry," Fred said, scooting so Harry could fit between the pair.

"Super Exploding Snap?" George offered.

"No thanks," Harry said, sitting down. "I think it needs a little work first."

"Yeah," Fred said, "that wasn't nearly enough ash. We'll need to work no that."

"His hair was practically clean," George stated, sadly.

"So," Harry said, taking a sip from his drink, "why'd you stay back for the holidays?"

"Mum and dad are off visiting our brother in Romania for Christmas," Fred said.

"Figure she didn't want us playing with the dragons," George said, sounding down.

"Dragons?" Harry asked.

"Charlie," Fred said.

"He works with dragons in Romania," George said.

"And he would let you play with them?" Harry asked.

"Who said anything about let?" Fred asked.

"Honestly, Harry, you think permission has anything to do with it?" George said, sounding put off.

Harry chuckled. "Well, good to have some company stay at Hogwarts, at least," he said. "Wouldn't be the same without a prank or two."

"Awww, was Harry-kins going to miss us?" Fred asked.

"So shweeet, Harry," George added.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry said, waving as he laughed.

"Any new adventures planned, Harry?" Fred asked.

"We battling an acromantula this week? Swimming the lake to battle krakens?" George asked.

"Adventures?" Harry asked.

"Like Halloween," Fred said.

"A bit tame, but there was a giant three-headed dog, at least," said George.

"Well, we think Draco Malfoy knows about what the dog is hiding," Harry said, offhand.

"How would he know that?" Fred asked.

Harry grew red and shut his mouth.

"Oh ho!" George exclaimed.

"Our little Harry is all grown up and hiding something from us," Fred said, his eyes lighting up.

"But we have our ways of learning what you know," George said, looking superior and knowing.

"To the dungeons!" Fred exclaimed.

"Dungeons?" Harry asked.

"The torture machines are ALWAYS in the dungeons," George said.

"Obviously," Fred said.

"You could, I dunno…ask?" Harry suggested. He was still hot in the face. He hadn't intended to speak to the twins about this, but it was too late to un-say what he had about Draco. They knew he was hiding something and would be the biggest pests in history if he didn't just tell them.

"Nope," George said, grabbing Harry's arm.

"This is more fun!" Fred said, grabbing the other.

They march-stepped him out of the Hall, loudly proclaiming the torture would begin shortly and that they wouldn't rest until Harry had spilled his guts for them. Harry found himself dragged down the stairs towards the dungeon, feeling like a brick wedged between other bricks. He didn't resist as he was fairly certain they were joking. Whatever pranksters the twins might be, he didn't think they would actually try to hurt anyone. He hoped…

Fred stopped them in the middle of a corridor, they slipped into an un-used classroom and sat Harry down in a chair in the middle. Fred pulled some things out of his pocket until he found an old piece of parchment. Harry couldn't hear what he said, but lines and shapes appeared all over its face. Looking it over, Fred appeared satisfied. With a tap of his wand, it went blank. Putting it back in his pocket, he said, "Okay, we're free to talk here, Harry. No one is around."

"So, spill Harry," George said, face close to Harry's, leaning over him. They could be rather intimidating, if they wanted to be.

"What's this all about, Harry?" Fred asked.

"I-I told you before about how we overheard someone say they were after something hidden behind the three-headed dog, right?" Harry asked.

"A fine recap, Harry m'lad," Fred said.

"Indeed," George said, "insofar as it really told us nothing."

"Yes, well," Harry said, "it turns out the dog is Hagrid's. He named it Fluffy."

"Pleasant name for a man-eater," Fred said.

"As is the norm for Hagrid," George said, sagely.

"You have no idea," Harry said, thinking back to all of his more 'interesting' magical creatures over the years. He had requested Dumbledore let him get a manticore at least three times. "Manty 'd be a great name fer 'im, eh?" Hagrid had asked Harry later.

"Go on," Fred urged.

"He also let slip that what it was guarding was between Dumbledore and someone named Nicholas Flamel," Harry said. "I remembered that I had seen the wizard's name on a Chocolate Frog card. It indicated the two had worked on alchemy together. We did some research and found that Flamel is one of the few creators of a Philosopher's Stone."

He stopped. The twins just looked at him expectantly.

Harry shook his head in frustration. "The Philosopher's Stone is a powerful magical object that makes other metals into gold and is a primary ingredient in the Elixir of Life potion. You will live as long as you regularly drink that potion. Flamel is hundreds of years old!"

The pair stared, shocked.

"And this is in the school?" Fred asked.

"Yes, and we know some people are after it, maybe Draco, now that he's heard of it," Harry said.

"Hey, Fred," George said, "think of all the things we could make if we had unlimited gold."

"All we wanted," Fred said.

"Focus," Harry snapped. "The stone is in danger."

"It is guarded, though," Fred said.

"Yes, but nothing is perfect," Harry said. "If people are after it, they could get it. They just need to figure out how to get through the traps."

"Then, you should tell a professor," George said, simply.

Fred stared at him as if he didn't know his twin. "Tell? Are you mad?"

George cracked up. "I can't believe you fell for that," he said, practically crying with laughter.

"Ass," Fred said. "To think, my twin a goody-goody."

"It is a good idea," Harry said. "Maybe I should alert the professors."

"And tell them, what?" Fred demanded. "I think some people might be after it. I don't know whom or why, but I went around all sneaky-like to find out what it is, revealed it to other students, and wanted to let you know people might be after it."

"Ridiculous, Harry," George said, shaking his head.

"I didn't mean for Draco to hear about it," Harry protested.

"You didn't need to," Fred said, "but you can still get in trouble for it."

"Why get in trouble when you can solve the whole thing and then get rewarded, instead?" George asked.

"What are you suggesting?" Harry asked, looking incredulous at the other two.

"Simple," Fred said, "you are pretty sure someone will find their way to get it, right?"

"Yeah?" Harry asked.

"Then, we have only one choice," Fred answered.

"We take it first," said George.


	11. Chapter 11: Christmas

Bonus fic this Sunday as I had an extraordinarily good writing day. Hope you all enjoy! - Lumos

Harry blinked, the bright sunlight pouring through the window across the dormitory had broken his quiet slumber. Waking up with no dorm mates during the holiday break had reminded him of his time before school. He would wake whenever he wanted and no one would disturb him if he wanted a bit of a lie in. Today was no exception, besides the fact that he might have wanted to wake sooner.

He looked out at the light for a moment before it clicked. Jumping up, he threw off his cover and went around to the foot of his bed. As always, a pile of presents awaited him there. The staff, surrogate parents in their way, always gave him a little something each, and this year was no exception.

Sitting at the foot, he picked them up one at a time to see what he had received. First, he opened a box of eagle-owl feather quills from McGonagall. They were exceptional in quality and seemed to move with a wind that was not there. She always sent him practical gifts, even when he was much too young to need them. Flitwick sent him a puzzle box that unfolded into new boxes with successively more difficult puzzles. Snape had provided him a more accurate ingredient scale with a note that "This may help you create less embarrassing potions in my class." 'Always sentimental, Snape,' Harry thought.

Hermione had sent him a book on the differences in different cultural magic principles. He had sent her one on the basics of rune spells, a topic he had seen her show some interest in. There was a shaking and smoking bag that had a bright orange tag proclaiming it, "Gift from the Magnificent Makers of Mischief of our Age" which Harry left aside until he could take it to a safer place to open it. A few more gifts varied from amusing to mundane before he came to a shimmering bundle.

Opening it up, he saw a note fall onto the floor. Looking at it, he could see Dumbledore's thin handwriting. Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well.

Examining the shimmering material, Harry could feel how light it was. It was a cloak of some sort, but not like anything Harry had ever seen or worn. Pulling it over his shoulders, he could feel how big it was, meant for a grown man, no doubt. Looking down to see how it looked, he couldn't see his body at all.

"An invisibility cloak!" he exclaimed. "I've never even seen one of these before. It's amazing!"

He had an amusing moment thinking about the things the twins would do with such an aid to their mischief, before taking off the cloak and thinking about what it meant. His father had owned this but Dumbledore had it before he died. Why had his father had it? Why did Dumbledore need it? Was it related to the war? Harry had so many questions, but no answers. Perhaps he would ask Dumbledore about it…

Setting the cloak down on his bed, Harry realised there was something on the floor on the other side of his bed, a long thin package. They had probably kept it out of the middle of the room so he wouldn't trip on it. Moving over to it, he realised immediately what it had to be. Ripping open the package, his ready-to-use Nimbus 2000 lay in his arms at last. It was an incredible broom. He had ogled it at the store in Diagon Alley when he went for his books, but hadn't dared touch it. As he wasn't allowed a broom, all he could do was look and admire. Now, though, it was his, and he could ride it whenever he liked. The idea filled him with happiness.

It was still a few hours before Christmas lunch, so Harry threw on some clothing, grabbed his new broom and headed down to the grounds. Not waiting to get to the pitch, Harry flew from the front door, soaring over the grounds on his way to the pitch. He felt the ease of movement, how the broom seemed to respond to his thoughts more than his actions. It was so much more effortless than he'd ever found it before. Crossing over the stands, he entered the stadium, diving towards the ground and pulling up just before he reached the grass. He looped around and around, taking sudden quick turns one way or another and climbs, dives, spins, anything he could think of. And it all just worked. There was no pull to the left, no sudden jolts from some old crack in the wood.

Harry began hovering high above the pitch, picturing himself in a match. He could almost hear the sound of cheering fans and the whoosh of players and balls flying about, the thud of collisions and the crack of bludger bats. The cold air flowed around him, chilling him through, but the sun was bright, for the moment. It was a lovely and quiet moment to just enjoy with his new broom.

"Oi, Harry!" came a call from below.

Harry looked down to see a few people walking onto the pitch. He dove down, coming out of the dive easily to land beside them. It felt effortless.

"That broom is amazing!" cried one boy, a Hufflepuff Harry didn't know.

"You picked a good one," Fred said. "Our Cleansweeps might be able to keep up if we add a few rockets to the back."

"Or a dragon," George said, snickering.

"Thanks," said Harry. "It handles really well, too."

"You want to play?" the Hufflepuff boy asked.

"Yeah, let's have a mini-match," Fred said, looking excited.

"But who's on which team?" Harry asked. "We can't do it by house. I'm the only Ravenclaw out here."

"Should have thought about that before you became a Ravenclaw, eh Harry?" George said, laughing.

"Funny," Harry said, glaring at George.

"We draw straws," the Hufflepuff said. "There are eight of us here. If we forego the snitch and one of the bludgers, we could play a good half round of Quidditch."

Harry said, "Well, maybe we ought to separate the twins before the straws as they are the only ones capable of checking each other as Beaters. We don't want any serious injuries on Christmas."

"What?" Fred asked.

"Separate us?" George demanded. "Perish the thought!"

"Sounds fun," Fred said after a moment, eyeing his brother and laughing.

"Bring it, Freddie!" George cried, raising his fist in the air.

"Brought…punk," Fred said, looking as fierce as a twin could look.

Harry couldn't help laughing. "Alright, then the other six of us need to divide up by team and then figure out positions within our group."

Harry ended up with Fred, the Hufflepuff boy, and a Slytherin third year who really loved Quidditch but hadn't made the team yet. They played a round, Harry playing Keeper to make the Chasers more evenly matched. It was tough in that position, and Harry let in about as many as he blocked. They stopped when the Slytherin told them it was time for lunch. The score was fairly even, but Harry suspected they might lose in a full game. George was a powerhouse of authority on his team, and they were pretty efficient working together.

Harry walked back up from the pitch with the Slytherin, saying, "You're pretty good. I know they field a good team on their end, but they need a better Keeper. The one they have is just so-so. Have you considered trying out for Keeper?"

"I've always wanted to play as a Chaser, really," the boy named Manot Fleming said. "I don't want to be stuck at one of the goal posts waiting."

"Well," Harry said, "believe me from today. It's a work out from the posts. I don't think I'm good enough for it, to be honest. Seeker is more my style. Hunting, you know? You wait until you see the target and strike. That's much easier than a frontal attack over and over. If we play again after lunch, you should try it. I'd switch to Chaser any day."

"You did pretty well," Manot said.

"I let in as many as I stopped," Harry said, sagging. "There's a lot in that role both physical and psychological. They come at you three time to the left goal and then to the right. You try to guess where they're coming next and they fake you out. That's a lot to think about while you watch a horde of Chasers barrelling down on you. Everyone else on your team is depending on you, too."

"That's true for Seeker, too," Manot told him. "Despite everything in the game, ninety percent of them are won by the Seeker. One hundred and fifty points and the game ending move is nothing to sniff at. You…your … your game was spectacular. I don't think anyone has seen anything like that before, to be honest."

"Thanks," Harry said. "It was happy chance that the Snitch was so close to where I was."

"You will make a first rate Seeker, Harry," Manot said. "Just don't tell the other Slytherins that."

"Promise," Harry said. "If you promise to try Keeper after lunch. I have seen dozens of matches at the school, grown up with it. Something tells me you would do well."

"Thanks, Harry," Manot said quietly. "I'll…I'll think about it."

"Good enough," Harry said, laughing.

"Conspiring with the enemy, Harry?" Fred said pushing in.

"Doom will befall us all, Ravenclaw and Slytherin talking!" George exclaimed.

"His name is Manot," Harry said, "and he's a valued member of my Christmas Quidditch platoon. Yours too, Fred," he added pointedly at Fred.

"Yeah, yeah," Fred said, "he did make a goal or two."

"You know what?" Harry said. "I think today's Quidditch is more fun than the House Cup."

"You're daft, Harry," Fred said.

"Yeah, lost it," George added. "Winning with a house behind you is awesome."

"But with this," Harry said, "house doesn't matter. No one is cheering for one side or another. Your victories and failures are … yours. It's pretty fun, you know? No one is depending on it, and there are no consequences…"

"Nutters," Fred said.

"Mad, I say!" George said.

Manot chuckled. Harry laughed aloud. "Whatever," he said. "I'm having fun and meeting people I might not otherwise. If we just sat in the Great Hall at our own tables, we'd miss a lot. They may divide us by houses, but they don't keep us from talking to each other, you know?"

"Except," the Hufflepuff boy said, breaking in, "there are things about each group that others don't like. And there's so much emphasis on the…differences."

"Exactly," Harry said. "Why look at the similarities when the differences give you a good reason to separate?"

"Deep, Harry," Fred said.

"That's Ravenclaw wisdom for you," George added, chuckling.

Harry sighed. "That's exactly what I was talking about," he said.

The Slytherin chuckled as they walked into the school. The last student or so crossed into the Great Hall as Harry's group entered. With some quick math, Harry realised there were only thirty or so in the whole school today. Still, the Head Table had a handful of professors and the different tables had a handful or more each, clustered together. He could see it, so visibly, the division.

"Hold on," he said to the others. "I'm going to do something about it."

The others stared as he walked in a bee-line up the hall to the professor's table. Dumbledore sat in the middle talking to Professor McGonagall. He felt a surge of nervousness as he approached, but thought about the others, the group that were standing by the door watching him. He thought about all the other students throughout the hall, and the separate little clusters they had formed because of their divisions.

"Harry," Dumbledore said as Harry approached. "Is there something wrong?"

"N-no professor," Harry said, stopping in front of the table. "I-I was…"

He froze. He knew all of these professors very well, but it felt weird asking them something. Usually, they just helped him when they would and he didn't ask for anything. He shook himself to get his thoughts in line.

"C-can we merge the tables for Christmas?" he asked. "It looks so…sad, doesn't it?" He turned to point at the groups all in little clumps across the room.

"We can, Harry," Dumbledore said, "if the students want to sit together." He watched Harry with a knowing look in his eyes. "Why don't you ask them."

"S-sure," Harry said. He certainly hadn't foreseen this as the response from the Headmaster. Turning about, he could see the mass of students before him. From this position, with something to say to them, it felt like a monumental number of people in front of him. They all seemed to be staring at him, though some part of him was sure only a couple had actually noticed he was up there besides the Quidditch players from before.

Mustering what courage he could, Harry called out to the hall, "IthoughtweshouldallsittogetherforChristmasdoesany oneelsewantto?"

Everyone was staring this time. Harry was well aware that no one had understood what he said. He felt the shame welling up within him. How had he made such a catastrophic mess up?

"Harry is wondering," Dumbledore said behind him, after a moment, "if anyone else would want to sit as one school, together, for Christmas?"

Harry's shame deepened. Dumbledore had said it so simply, as if asking for toast at breakfast, and he had completely mucked it up. No wonder everyone went back to their conversations and not bothered with an answer. It was obvious, wasn't it? No one wanted to follow the suggestions of someone who couldn't even manage to speak to them properly.

Sighing, he walked away from the professor's table, sitting alone at one end of the Ravenclaw table, away from the two small clusters on the other end. He didn't eat much and he really didn't want to interact with anyone else. How had his idea backfired so much? All he wanted was to see if the students could get along together. Were they really that divided that they would rather ignore him that sit together one day a year? The realisation that he had been a complete fool saddened him.

He left before the lunch was done, avoiding the eyes of anyone in the hall, and took to wandering the hallways and stairs of Hogwarts. He had no notion of going back to the Quidditch game, not at this point. He had failed to bring the houses together, and going to play a game would do little to help with that. Hallways blurred, and he crossed through places he could scarcely recall. Even he, with his ingrained knowledge of the school, lost track of the turns he took.

Slipping into a room to avoid anyone who might be looking for him, Harry sat down on the floor and cried. It was Christmas. This was supposed to be a time to bring people together, but … no one wanted that. They liked their separation, they wanted to be around the people they always saw and ignore the other three quarters of the school, their classmates in many cases. Many foul wrongs had passed between their forebears over the ages, and they had inherited prejudices that made their own actions add more to the fire. He had just wanted to help.

Looking up, after a time, he could see a great mirror set before him. It had an aura of age and use to it. The quiet around him felt even deeper than before, and as he looked at the mirror, he felt there was something drawing him toward it. He approached, unable to help himself. Approaching it, Harry could suddenly see, really. Hundreds of students stood about him, crowded about. The uniforms of Slytherins embracing and standing beside Gryffindors. The Ravenclaws stood by the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, and Slytherins. In fact, there was no rhyme or reason to it. Everyone stood next to people of the other houses with no regard. Harry stood in the midst of it, one of them.

He revelled in what he saw. It was amazing. Everything he had hoped for, the separations fallen away and people just…together. It was a beautiful sight, whatever this mirror might be. Was it the future? Did it really matter? He was sure it wasn't real, but it was a vision of absolutely everything he could have wished for at the moment. To see it so well encapsulated both tore at him and gave him hope. Maybe he had failed today, but what had he done, really? He asked them. Maybe they needed more than a question they had already thought out the answer to? Maybe they needed something better than that.

After staring in wonder at the mirror for a few minutes, observing the happiness in the faces before him, Harry turned around. Sighing, he walked out of the room and shut the door. He wanted to see it more. Harry wanted to stand their in front of that mirror for ages, but what good would it do? He could see these and other people every day in classes, at lunch. They weren't foreign, though the faces were vague in his mind, even now. What they meant, though, was a promise.

"I will make it happen," he said to himself, clenching his fist. "I promise."

Out of the room, he felt something lift from him. The room, maybe the mirror itself, it had weighed on him in a way Harry had never known. Here, though, he was free of it. But what could he do now? Smiling, he realised. Shaking his head, he made his way back down to the Great Hall. Maybe there would still be a few down there interested in playing another pick-up game. It was still Christmas, after all.


	12. Chapter 12: Schizm

"Harry? Harry?"

"Wh- oh, Fred," Harry said, looking up from the thick book he was reading.

"Sometimes we worry about you, Harry, m'lad," Fred said.

"So deeply buried in books… it just isn't right for a young, strapping lad," George agreed.

"Maybe we ought to do something about this side of our young protege?" Fred asked his twin.

"Oh, so you've agreed to split me, then?" Harry asked, smirking.

"Yes," Fred said, hugging his brother to him, "but I get first dibs at corruptions and George gets-"

"Dibs at teaching you the ways of the world," George finished.

"Well, I'm glad you've worked out a compromise," Harry said, "but classes start tomorrow, and I want to be ready."

"Did the professors assign any work over the holidays?" Fred asked.

"No, but-"

"Did you forget to finish something before we went on leave that was due before we went on break?" George asked.

"No, but-"

"Then, you have no excuse for bailing on us today," Fred said, shaking his head in disappointment.

"For shame!" George cried, drawing all the eyes in the Great Hall towards them. "To think, forgotten by our friend and protege!"

"How will we ever recover?" Fred exclaimed, putting a hand to his forehead.

"What do you want?" Harry asked in a harsh whisper. He could feel eyes still on them from the other tables.

"Never thought you'd ask!" Fred said, grabbing Harry by the arm.

George scooped up Harry's books and bag, carrying them after the pair of them. "Glad we're finally on the same page, Harry!" he exclaimed, joyful.

"You're both mad," Harry said, trying to claw out of Fred's arms without success.

"Mad as foxes," George laughed.

"Glorious foxes," Fred added, tugging Harry into the Entrance Hall.

"Where are you taking me?" Harry asked.

"You'll see," Fred said.

"I'd like to know, too," came a voice from off to one side.

"Hermione," Harry gasped as the twins stopped. His head was currently tucked under Fred's left arm, frozen in place. "Y-You're back."

"The train just arrived," she said, nodding to the dozens of students pouring through the entry door. "What are you three doing?" she asked.

"I…wish I knew," Harry said, glancing at the twins again.

"I suppose we should really include our resident Gryffindor bookworm," Fred said.

"Come!" George exclaimed. "All will be explained."

"If you come willingly," Fred added, "we may spare you Harry's fate." He shrugged his arm, moving Harry's head with it.

"To be fair," George said, "our arms are getting full, as it is. We'd appreciate if you just walk there."

"You know you can let me go at any time," Harry said.

"Nope," Fred said. "You can't be trusted. Ravenclaw and all that. It's nothing personal, you understand."

"I'll come along if you let him walk," Hermione said.

"And you take full responsibility if he escapes?" George said.

"Of course," she said, smiling.

"Then," Fred said, his lip twitching, "on your head be it."

George burst out laughing as Fred released Harry's head. Hermione chuckled but Harry was annoyed.

"All of that for a pun?" He demanded of them.

"What can I say?" Fred asked. "Sometimes you have to go with the classics."

"So, where are we going?" Hermione asked, interrupting.

"Let's just grab an empty classroom," George replied.

"I was planning to dragging him all the way to the Astronomy Tower," Fred said, sadly. "Since that is off, I suppose a classroom will work."

"Thank you," Harry muttered, massaging his neck.

They went upstairs to find the first available classroom they could find. Hermione and Harry followed the pair catching up.

"How were your holidays?" he asked.

"Good," she said, "quiet. Home feels really easy going after Hogwarts. I got loads of studying done. Oh, and thank you for the book. I read it on Boxing Day."

"Thanks for your gift, too," Harry said. "It was a fascinating read."

"What about our gifts?" Fred called back.

"Mine exploded and threw cream pies in every direction," Harry said.

"And mine chased my parents around the living room bouncing like an out of control pogo stick," Hermione said.

"What's a pogo stick?" Harry asked.

"That's beside the point," Fred said, waving off his question. "How was the creme pie?"

"Delicious," Harry answered, reluctant.

"And the widget we made you," George said, turning back to Hermione, "wasn't it useful when you stopped running from it?"

"I-I guess," she said. "It brings us drinks whenever we want. My father is keeping it in the lounge for guests. He's going to tell them it is the latest in robotics."

"Robotics?" Harry and the twins asked as one.

"Muggle automated devices that do things for you?"

"Muggles do think up some amazing things," Harry said.

"We're here," George announced as he opened a door for them.

The four of them piled in, sitting on desks along the side of the room. Harry could smell the must of a room long since used. Dust stacked up in the corners of the room and the air itself felt heavy.

"So!" Fred began suddenly. "How are we getting the stone past the giant dog and other inevitable traps of doom and dismemberment?"

"What?" Hermione asked, looking between Fred and Harry.

"What he means is," George said, "since Draco and the mystery persons are probably after the philosopher's stone, how do we beat them to it, saving it from evil deeds and misuse."

"Dangerous misuse," Fred said. "There's no point pinching it without making a bit of gold for ourselves, is there? Heroes need payment, after all."

"Wait!" Hermione said. "Nobody is stealing anything."

"Saving!" George said. "Keep up."

"We're not doing anything with the stone," Hermione insisted.

"I think it is a concern," Harry said. "Someone could take it, and we know there are more than one party interested."

"Three by my count," Hermione said, pointedly looking at Fred and George.

"Yes," Harry said, "but their point is valid. There is some danger in it getting out."

"That is why the professors put magical protection in place," she said. "Do you think any of you can protect it better than Dumbledore?"

"I-" Harry began.

"Do you?" she asked, looking at each of them.

"But if we get it away from there," George began.

"What? You'll hand it over to the professors?" Hermione asked. "They already have it!"

"But it's not hidden very well," George said.

"Then, you know what," Hermione said, frustration clearly crossing her face, "let's tell them. If we think it is really in danger, we can get them to move it somewhere else."

"Maybe they have it there to catch someone trying to take it," Harry said, thinking. "Maybe they know someone is after it."

"They are hiding it in a pretty obvious spot," Hermione said. "If they wanted to make it difficult to find, they probably wouldn't put a giant dog over the entrance."

"Huh," Fred said, putting on a thoughtful expression.

"You do have a point," George answered, rocking back on his desk.

"It would be helpful if we could tell them who is after the stone," Harry said.

"For all we know," Hermione said, sounding entirely too reasonable, "they know that too. What are two third years and two first years going to do anyway?"

"What kind of Gryffindor are you?" Fred asked.

"The kind that thinks before she acts," Hermione said, hotly.

After an uncomfortable pause, Harry said, "Let's all calm down. I think Hermione has a very good point. I was never sure about this idea, and I really don't think it's a good idea now. This smells of trouble we don't need."

Hermione took a few deep breaths and smiled. "Thanks, Harry."

"No," Fred said. "You know what? I don't think that's a good enough reason to do nothing."

"Me neither," George said. "Forget what we could get from the stone."

"Yeah," Fred added. "In fact, forget using it. We promise never to use it, at all."

"That was just for fun, after all," George said, standing up. "This is more important than such things. You two first years may not understand, but that stone is one of the most powerful objects possible."

"We do understand," Hermione interjected. "But so do the professors. They can protect it far better than a couple third years."

"They think they can," Fred said.

"But, as you said," George continued, "it sounds like they are trying to use it as bait. Does that sound like they are really taking it serious?"

"Not to me," Fred answered. "If they are waving it around as bait to some unknown person, I think they are skirting a disaster."

"Then, we should talk to them," Harry protested. "Even if they should move it, they can protect it much better than any of us."

"Agreed," Hermione said. "They are much smarter than we are. They know more about magic. They know the consequences, but maybe we can warn them that this direction is a bit more risky than they think."

"Dumbledore would listen to us, at least," Harry said.

"The adults had their chance," Fred said, shaking his head. "Something tells me this won't end well for them."

"It just smells bad," George agreed, sniffing.

"Maybe we should discuss this with them?" Harry suggested. "They may all be agreed, but if they hear that we know about it and are concerned, it may sway their opinion."

"They'll be mad we know," Fred protested.

"And what about when you take it, will they be happy then?" Hermione asked.

"They'll understand when we explain," George answered.

"Explain what, exactly?" came a voice from the door. It opened to reveal Professor Snape, glowering at the people in the room.

"Nothing," the twins said at once, glancing at the other two.

His eyes moved, questioning, to the first years. Harry felt the familiar eyes rake over his, with the same superiority and distance they always had. Neither of them spoke for a moment. The shock of his appearance was too much for Harry to react. Snape had an uncanny ability to appear where he was not needed or wanted.

"What would four young students be doing in an unused classroom on a free day like this?" Snape asked, looking about at them. "Feels like you might be…up to something."

"We haven't done anything, Professor," Fred said.

"Just chatting, as students do," George said. They were clearly taking advantage of the shock the younger students were experiencing.

"Maybe we should hear from the other two in the room," Snape said, turning away from the mischievous twins. "They, after all, have nothing on their school records, unlike…some."

He leaned in towards Harry and Hermione. Harry could feel she was looking worried and scared in front of so direct a question from a professor. He wondered if they should just tell Snape about it. They had just discussed doing that a moment ago. It felt harder, now, though, to do that. Snape, professor though he might be, was always one of the more difficult ones to speak to. He didn't' seem to understand things like the others did. For example, in finding them talking, he immediately assumed they were all going to do something against school rules. The fact that they had been arguing for and against such a thing was beside the point.

"Well?" Snape asked, looking closely at Hermione. "You always seem to have all the answers, Ms. Granger. What do you have to say, now?"

"We're not doing anything," Harry found himself saying. "Professor, we were just talking, like George said. There's no harm in that, I hope, sir?"

"None at all," Snape said, his withering gaze burning into Harry's eyes, "but talking with the twins often leads to things that are unhappy to many."

"Th-they're not bad," Hermione managed, seeming shocked to hear her own voice. "If anything, they are a bit mischievous, at times."

"And who, may I ask," Snape said, rounding on her, "has to deal with it? Do you have to clean up the messes they cause? Do they?"

"Only if we're caught," Fred joked. George chuckled.

"Indeed," Snape said, eyes narrowing at them. "I will guarantee it…"

With a final glare, he turned about and left the room, his black cloak sliding through the door just before it shut. Silence followed his exit, but they could hear his footsteps march down the hall. When a door at the end of the hall slammed and muffled steps continued beyond it, they all breathed again.

"He's like a great big bat, that one," Fred muttered.

"Scary as," George agreed.

"He suspects something," Hermione whimpered, clearly scared.

"It's us," Fred said. "We're always a suspicious lot."

"And we've got ourselves caught up in it," Harry sighed.

"So, you're in?" Fred asked, sounding excited.

"No," Harry replied. "I still don't think we should go after the stone."

"Hmmph," Fred said, "and we thought you two would be more fun."

"You could have been heroes," George said, looking downcast.

"Heroes know when to act, and when not to act," Hermione quipped.

"Sometimes," Fred said, "you have to take a risk or two."

"Not if you don't need to," Harry answered.

"Well," George said, "think about it, eh? We'll check back and see if you're ready to help."

The twins got up, walking towards the door. "Oh, and Hermione," Fred said, looking over his shoulder while he held the door for his brother, "Welcome back."


End file.
